


Wicked Winds Blow with Grace and Might

by engagemythrusters



Series: Right Behind You [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: COE Fix-it, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Not Miracle Day Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 46,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: If Captain Jack Harkness thought he'd be alone after Ianto died, he was dead wrong.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Right Behind You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586635
Comments: 19
Kudos: 162





	1. Part One Point Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was _supposed_ to fix my baby fever. Did it? NO!  
> Anyway, I was literally obsessed with the Jack and Ioan father/son relationship and also I wanted to talk about babies, so I made this before I'd even finished writing a thousand words of the third chapter of the last fic.

Forehead kisses, Jack Harkness had decided long ago, were the best kind of kisses. And he would know. He was somewhat of an expert on kisses. He had kissed innumerable people with innumerable types of kisses, but there was no kiss, not _one_ , that meant more to him than a simple kiss to the forehead of someone he loved so very dearly. It was the easiest way to say, “I love you; you matter to me.” Nothing, in his opinion, was more important than a forehead kiss.

That was why his new-born son’s forehead was constantly under his lips. Jack loved that boy more than he loved anyone, and he was determined to show it to the baby every chance he could. He’d lost his chance with the boy’s father, and he was going to make up for it with a constant rain of forehead kiss after forehead kiss from now until the boy was old enough to tell him to cut it out. Even then, he might sneak in a few.

At the moment, he was standing in the middle of the barren sitting room of his new house, giving the boy a particularly long forehead kiss. Jack only got to do that when he was sleeping, and he was not about to waste the perfect opportunity to let his son knew he loved him.

It had been time to leave Francine and Tish alone. They had put up with him for four months, between the pregnancy and first few weeks of the baby’s life, and Jack hadn’t wanted to impose on them for much longer. He had gifted them with a cleaning service to come polish up the room he’d habited (to make up for the messy “home birth” and the piss-poor cleaning job afterward), as well as the promise of a nice dinner when he next had the time to take them out to dinner, which would probably be a long, long time from now. Babies were quite a lot of work.

Right now, the work came in finding a name. Jack hadn’t any idea how stressful that was until recently. He had been struggling with it since the day after the boy was born, and it was not getting any easier.

He had originally started with only one ground rule. No naming after people he knew and lost, especially not Ianto. That was unfair to both parties, placing too much expectation on the baby to live up to the namesake and feeling a little like a replacement for the other person. So, not Ianto.

Fictional characters that Ianto loved, on the other hand, were fair game. James Bond was Jack’s immediate choice, but James Jones sounded more than a bit odd. Try saying that ten times fast. James Jones James Jones James Jones… blah. No.

That eliminated the possibility of naming the boy after James Kirk, too, now that he thought about it. Then he wrote out Star Trek and “J” names all together; Jean-Luc Jones wasn’t a good name, either.

As for Star Wars, well, there was Luke or Han. Luke was decent, and Jack considered it momentarily before deciding he shouldn’t do that to Sarah Jane Smith. She’d gotten to the name first. Actually, he should probably call her…

Han was a no-go automatically. Jack had known one Han, and he was currently going by the name “John Hart.” Ianto would roll over in his grave if Jack named their son after that man.

And Indiana Jones… well. Jack wanted to name the child, not harass him. It’d be cute and cool for the first, oh, eight years of his life, and then the kid would probably be teased and bothered about it for the rest of his life. Indiana Jones would make for a cool name in a few centuries, when nobody would remember the movies. Or possibly in a few millennia, when nobody would remember the American state, either. But for now, Indiana Jones was not appropriate.

Jack slowly started to realise that Ianto had only really liked sci-fi and action books and films. It got him thinking about Ianto and Torchwood and Jack… was Torchwood and Jack all just because Ianto was attempting to fill a fantasy life he’d always dreamed for himself? Jack shook his head. Best not think about it.

In the end, though, that left him with two options; Welsh names or “I” names, and that was what he was puzzling out at the moment.

Gareth was on the list of possibilities. He liked Gareth. Ianto had looked like a Gareth. Gwilym and its variants were on the fence. Llewelyn was _not_ on the list, mostly because Ianto had laughed at him every time he’d pronounced the Welsh “ll.” Meredith… no. The baby just didn’t look like one. Neither did he look like a Tristan, Trevor, or Vaughn. Owen was already out by default and he didn’t like any name starting with the letters “A” through “E.” “D” was an exception, but he didn’t think the baby was a Dafydd or a Dylan.

So, it was either Gareth or both a Welsh and an “I” name.

“Ifan is too close to Ianto,” Jack told the boy. “So that’s not going to work. How do you feel about Idris?”

The baby kept sleeping.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Jack said. “Iago? No. Everyone would think of Othello. Wouldn’t give you very many good first impressions. What about Iolo? I suppose that’s short for Iorwerth, so how about that?”

Baby Jones had nothing to say on the matter.

“Ithel?” Jack grimaced. “Sounds like an elf from Lord of the Rings. Oh, I could name you after one of those, too. Ianto liked those. Aragorn Jones?”

No forthcoming response from the son of a strangely obsessed fanatic.

“Ivor. Iwan.” Jack sighed. “Ilar?”

He was running out of the Welsh “I” names he could remember. He only could remember two more, and those were “Islwyn” and…

 _Oh_.

Jack chuckled to himself. “That’s cutting it close, isn’t it? But I think we can make it work.”

He kissed the forehead of his son once more, then went to go set the baby down in the cradle he’d just bought. He smiled down at his baby for a moment. Cute. Just like his father. Ianto had never let Jack call him cute, though.

He pulled out his mobile and snapped a picture. Then he scrolled through the numbers until he found the one he wanted, and pressed dial.

A very tired voice answered with: “What do you want?”

“Ioan,” he said.

There was a tense pause.

“Jack,” Gwen said carefully, “Owen’s dead. Remember?”

“Not _Owen_! _Ioan_!” He frowned. “Though they do sound similar. I’m breaking my ground rule twice, then. Mixing Owen and Ianto. That could cancel it out.”

“What in god’s name are you talking about?”

“The baby.”

“What baby?” Gwen asked, then immediately backpedalled. “Ooh. _The_ baby. Has it got a home, then?”

“Yeah. We’ve got a home.”

“That’s nice.” There was a beat of silence. “Hang on, did you _keep it_?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you could’ve led with that, you bloody bastard!”

“Sorry?” Jack guessed, but it was drowned out by a squeal from Gwen.

“Is it cute?”

“He’s adorable,” Jack said, looking down at his baby. Really, _really_ adorable. “Looks like a miniature Ianto.”

Gwen made a cooing noise.

“So, Ioan’s good, then?” Jack asked.

“Definitely. Have you got a middle name yet?”

“No. What’s yours?”

“Elizabeth. You know that.”

“No, your baby, Gwen. What’s your _baby’s_ middle name?”

“Ooh. Right. Well, she’s a girl, so I don’t think you should use hers.” She cackled. “You could name him after Rhys.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Easy to arrange.”

“You are a cruel woman, Gwen Cooper.” Then he sighed. “This is ridiculous. Can I skip the middle name?”

“I suppose,” she said. “Don’t know why you’d want to. What works with Ioan?”

Jack thought about it for a moment. A grin split across his face.

“Ioan Evan Jones.”

“No,” she said fervently. “We’re not having a John John John.”

“It’s funny, though,” he laughed. “Ianto would’ve found it hilarious.”

He suddenly found it hard to breathe, and he had to take a few moments to recollect himself. Stupid, how he could go about, thinking all about Ianto and the things he’d like and dislike, and still go to pieces about something as minor as Ianto’s _humour_.

“Hey,” Gwen murmured. “It’s alright. The world doesn’t just fix itself ‘cause you’ve got a baby Ianto on your hands. You’re still allowed to miss him.”

Jack swiped a hand over his eyes. “Yeah.”

“We can come back to middle names, alright?” she suggested. “But Ioan… it’s perfect.”

“Just enough Ianto without being Ianto,” he said.

“Exactly.” A sudden cry came from her end of the call. “Bugger, that’s her.”

“Go get her,” Jack said. “I’ll be around to talk to later.”

“Are you in town?” she asked.

“Just got a house.”

“Really? Where?”

When he told her the address, she instantly started throwing expletives at him.

“Utter bastard!” she yelled. “Absolute bloody prick! Two streets away, and you couldn’t be bothered to _tell us_?”

He laughed. “Only had it for a day now. Had Martha abuse her higher power to get me in here fast.”

“We looked at that house!” she exclaimed. “God, we couldn’t stand those salmon walls!”

“No kidding,” Jack said, looking at them. “Wish I’d seen them beforehand. Would’ve painted them before I moved in here.”

“We can make a day of it sometime.”

“You should really get your kid,” Jack told her as Gwen’s baby’s screams raised in volume and quantity.

“I should. I’ll visit soon, yeah?”

She rang off then without a goodbye. Jack slid the mobile back in his pocket and grinned down at his baby.

“Well, we got you a name, Ioan Jones,” Jack said. “Maybe I can finally fill out that birth certificate…”

Little Ioan Jones squirmed in his sleep, and Jack’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

* * *

A nine-hour trip was not what Jack had in mind for his weekend. Especially not the Monday right after Christmas. He had spent the entirety of Boxing Day packing, which seemed somewhat ironic to him, as well as bothersome. He didn’t celebrate Christmas, but Francine had invited him to a nice dinner and he had wanted a nice, relaxing day after driving back and forth from London on Christmas. Now he had to get back in a car. For _nine_ hours. With a screaming baby! Granted, Ioan was generally out like a light during car rides. The few moments that he was not, though, were hell on Jack’s ears and patience.

Jack took a swig of gruesomely bitter coffee. Blech. Should have stopped at a coffee shop, not a diner. Oh, well. The coffee should keep him going, even if the it was ridiculously burnt.

“You awake back there?” Jack asked.

He set the thermos of coffee down in a cup holder and reached a hand awkwardly back around his seat and up into Ioan’s car seat. He wiggled his fingers and was rewarded with a flailing hand smacking at him. Or possibly a flailing foot. Either way, Ioan was awake.

“Morning, kiddo,” Jack said. “How long until you start screaming, huh?”

Seven minutes. Jack had to pull the car over in a small town and feed him in the car park of an abandoned cinema. The police came. Apparently, that cinema and its car park was a common place for drug- and sex-related activities. They got quite a laugh when it was just a single, “American” father bottle-feeding his tiny, shrieking child. Jack did not laugh at all; he wondered if there was a way to aim Ioan’s milky vomit at them.

Jack sat and burped Ioan on his chest as the police drove away.

“You know,” Jack said. “If it was your dad in the car, they probably _would_ have arrested us. Not for drugs, obviously.” He held Ioan up to his eyes. “Say ‘no,’ to drugs, unless if they’re from an Yyzian, then take those and thank their twelve tentacles that you’ll never get the stomach flu again.”

He shouldered Ioan again and resumed their post-feeding burp.

“No,” he said, “they would’ve carted us off for public indecency. Your dad had a thing for car sex. Never did get to ask him about that.”

He sighed and finished the burping in silence. Ioan was wriggly and squirmy by the time they were done. Any other time, Jack would be content to watch him figure his little body out, but they still had a long way to go on the M6 and there was nowhere to set Ioan down to do his thing. So, back in the car seat Ioan went, and Jack put on some music to keep the kid entertained.

Ianto had always liked silent car rides, Jack recalled. Jack could see the appeal in collecting one’s thoughts as the country rolled by, but Jack had always been one to shamelessly sing in the car. For Ianto’s sake, Jack had never done it when they were driving in the same vehicle, and for Ioan’s sake, Jack didn’t do it now, either. He set aside his Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby for some more baby-appropriate music.

All the experts said Mozart was the thing to play to babies, but Jack had _met_ Mozart during a short stint with the Time Agency. Good music or not, that boy was not going to influence Jack’s son. Instead, Jack put on some children’s songs. He had meticulously chosen which songs to download onto his wrist strap. Some of them were Scottish (couldn’t have a trip to Scotland without some local tunes, Jack had figured), but the others were standard nursery rhymes. A fair bit of those were Welsh; Ianto would have strangled Jack if he didn’t raise his son as a proper Welshman. Welshbaby. Whatever. Point was, Jack had found a good version of “Ar Hyd y Nos” for Ioan to listen to, so he tuned the car’s radio to his wrist strap and let it play through.

Jack laughed at the jingle of one of the car seat’s many toys that Tish had given them two days ago.

“Do you like this song?” Jack asked him.

He reached a hand back and wiggled his fingers again. This time, Ioan’s tiny fingers snatched Jack’s thumb and grabbed onto it with all the might he had. Jack let Ioan have his hand. Despite what Ianto had always complained, Jack was perfectly capable of driving a car single-handed (Jack had often offered to demonstrate and Ianto had often accepted, because _car sex_ ). And even if Jack’s shoulder started to hurt after five minutes, so what? There would be no lasting damage and Ioan would be happy. Happy Ioan, happy Jack.

A few too many stops and a few too many hours later, they arrived at Torchwood House just after Ioan’s usual dinner time. He was fussing, as usual, and Jack wondered how the hell he was supposed to carry baby, baby’s stuff, and his own stuff into the house. Fortunately, he was spotted by a kind cleaning lady, who took Ioan gladly as Jack lugged in the travelling cot, the bags of baby stuff, and the suitcases. Jack’s stuff was still in Ianto’s old travelling bag.

They tried to set him up in one of the bigger rooms, but as always, Jack set up in Rose’s old room. It was still big enough to accommodate Jack and a five-month-old; even if it wasn’t, Jack was loath to leave it behind. There was history here, both Rose’s and Jack’s, hidden in the fabrics of Bad Wolf. Jack promised Ioan a good bedtime story tonight as he took Ioan down to the kitchens to heat up a bottle.

Archie found Jack just as Jack retrieved Ioan from one of the girls of the adoring kitchen staff. The moment Ioan had been fed, he had been essentially stolen from Jack’s arms and passed around the staff as they took turns cooing and ogling at him. Jack had watched with amusement as they all tried to get Ioan to smile. Nobody could, and therefore Ioan was reluctantly passed back to Jack.

“No, lassie, you’d best take that baby back,” Archie said when the girl started to draw away as the kitchen staff all hastened to look busy. “That man’s got work to be done.”

“It’s… not mine,” she said awkwardly.

She took a few steps back, then spun about on her heel and hurried to the ovens. Jack watched her for a moment. Of all the small kitchen staff, she had been the gentlest with Ioan. Maybe he could get her to watch Ioan during her time off from cooking. Jack would prefer that to taking Ioan down to the archives, where there was any number of artefacts that could do him harm. He’d have to talk to the girl about that later; she was busy making his supper at the moment. Sometimes, Jack was amused by Torchwood House’s adherence to tradition. Though he did hope she got paid better than kitchen maids back in the day.

“Whose is it, then?” Archie asked, drawing Jack from his reverie.

“ _He_ is not an ‘it,’” Jack said. He sat Ioan up on his lap and bounced him a little. “ _His_ name is Ioan.”

Ioan stuck his fist in his mouth and gnawed on it. Jack grinned down at him. Cutie.

“What?” Archie spluttered.

“I’d offer to let you hold him,” Jack said, not taking his eyes off Ioan, “but he’s a little shy today.” A little shy every day, really.

“Christ,” Archie said. “Jesus _Christ_.”

“Well, no.” Jack frowned up at the Scotsman. “You’re really trying to compare me to the Virgin Mary?”

“How the fuck—”

“Hey, language.” Jack sent a pointed glance down to Ioan, who was dribbling all over his hand. Was he teething? He was nearing six months, so it was entirely possible. What were signs of teething? He’d have to ask Martha.

“Jack, that’s a baby!”

Jack snorted. “I’m well aware.”

“But… _how_?” Archie demanded.

“Fifty-first century,” Jack said with a shrug.

Archie repeated that to himself with a murmured breath as he sat down heavily next to Jack. Jack scooted over to allow Archie some more room on the bench. Ioan hummed a short note as he continued chomping down on his hand, looking up at Jack with those wide, blue eyes of his. Jack smiled at him.

“Hi,” Jack said. “Happy now?”

Ioan kept chewing his fingers and staring up at Jack.

“Are you going to let us eat our dinner in peace?” Jack asked him.

“How far?” Archie asked suddenly.

“What?” Jack asked, looking over at him. His brow was furrowed in contemplation.

“When you last came,” he said. “You were—you looked…how far along were you?”

“Seven months. Probably looked about six months,” Jack said.

“I see,” Archie said faintly, sounding very much like he did not see at all.

“He grew slow.” Jack returned his smile to his son. “Didn’t you? Took your nice, sweet time. Kicked my guts black and blue until you got bored enough to come out.”

Ioan hummed again.

“Yeah,” Jack said, as if agreeing with him. “That’s right.”

“Bloody hell,” Archie swore, and Jack scowled at him.

“Language. Child present.”

“That boy of yours,” Archie said, heedless of Jack’s rebuke. “Is this his?”

Jack could skirt around the question and let Archie make his own guesses. The answer was pretty obvious; even at only five months, Ioan was a dead ringer for his father (good god, Jack would never say that again—too morbid). But was Ianto and Ioan’s connection really worth so little, for Jack to deny it as such? If Jack was determined to keep the connection alive, then it would be fruitless to denounce it aloud. Fruitless _and_ hypocritical.

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Christ,” Archie said.

“Clearly not.”

“Jack, if you say that again, I will lock you in the ‘B’ section for the rest of the week.”

Jack chuckled, then raised Ioan up to help him stand on Jack’s thighs. Ioan, hand still in his mouth, bounced a little, evidently happy to be in a new position. His feet slipped from Jack’s thigh every few bounces, and Jack lifted him slightly to reset him each time.

“Bouncy bouncy,” Jack said as Ioan bobbed up and down. “Bouncy bouncy bouncy.”

“You sound like a lunatic,” Archie said.

Jack could not refute that. Instead, he screwed up his face into one that Ioan always seemed to enjoy. He was rewarded by a laugh from Ioan and a groan from Archie.

“You’re insane, you are.”

“Parenthood,” Jack recited. “Outside the onesies, beyond the prams. Fighting to put on booties on behalf of tiny little toes. The twenty-fourth month is when everything changes, and nobody will be ready.”

“Absolutely bonkers.”

Jack made the funny face again and Ioan giggled. Adorable.

The food was served eventually, that same girl setting out the plates in front of them. Jack thanked her profusely and she blushed. Oops. Laid it on to thick with the charm. Oh, well, maybe he could use some of that charm to get her to watch Ioan… He shrugged, turning Ioan around and seating him on one thigh so that he could attempt eating his roasted grouse one-handed.

After dinner, Jack took Ioan back to the room. Sitting down on the bed, he placed Ioan down in the centre. Ioan kicked his legs and squirmed. Jack took Ioan’s hands, which curled immediately over his index fingers. When did babies lose that tight grip? Another thing Jack would have to ask Martha.

“Happy baby,” Jack said as he let Ioan wave his hands around.

Ioan tried sticking Jack’s finger into his mouth. Jack laughed and bent down to kiss his forehead.

That night was a rough one for Jack and Ioan both. The travelling cot Jack had brought did not attach on to the side of the bed like the bassinet at home. Jack found himself reaching out to the side for Ioan and waking in a panic when he found nothing there. Ioan started screaming his head off somewhere around midnight, and finding his nappy to be clear, Jack sat up rocking him for a while. When it was evident Ioan would not calm down, Jack stood up and took him for a walk around the house.

When he had been choosing songs to play for Ioan, he had run across one he remembered well from his past. Kathryn had been one of Jack’s sole friends in Torchwood at the time and had been one of the few to make it with a husband outside of Torchwood. Sometimes, she had brought in her baby boy, William, to watch over him while she took apart some gadget or another. When he had gotten unruly, she had sung to him, one hand rocking the cradle and the other still working on whatever device she had. Jack had been so heartbroken when they were both lost to the Spanish flu. It had been good, finding that song she had sung. It had made him feel like a part of him had never left, and he had stuck it onto his vortex manipulator without second thought. Of course, he could still sing it from memory.

 _“Oh, dear, what can the matter be?”_ he sang softly to Ioan. _“Dear, dear, what can the matter be? Oh, dear, what can the matter be?”_

He stopped abruptly with a frown. The next line to the song was “Johnny’s so long at the fair,” but he was not certain he wanted to be singing about someone who has the same name as Ianto’s brother-in-law. With a shrug to himself, he hummed the line instead, then continued on with the song, humming out the rest of the “Johnny” bits.

Jack finished the song three times before Ioan settled back down. Jack kissed his forehead and started the journey back to the room.

“When you’re older,” Jack told him, “you’ll get to play in these halls. Someday I might even teach you how to archive. Your dad would’ve wanted to teach you himself, but…”

Shaking his head, he sighed and kissed Ioan’s forehead again.

“I’ve got to be two parents, don’t I?” Jack said.

“Christ’s sake, Harkness, go to bed.”

Jack blinked at the wall where the muffled voice had come through.

“Whoops,” he called back to Archie.

Jack walked the rest of the way quietly, gently rocking Ioan in his arms the entire time.

“I’ll also teach you about car sex,” he whispered as he set Ioan into the cot. “But that will be much, much later. Otherwise your dad’s ghost will haunt me. And not in the sexy way.”

He kissed Ioan goodnight and slipped into bed. Lots of work to be done in the Archives tomorrow; he would need plenty of rest.

* * *

Though they were a month apart in age, Ioan and Anwen had joint birthday parties. It wasn’t like they would care; they were turning one and had no idea what a _day_ even was, much less a _birthday_ or a _party_. And Gwen insisted on it, so there had been no point in arguing.

Martha, Tish, and Francine had come down from London to visit and coo over Ioan, who only wanted to sit in Francine’s lap. Jack apologised thoroughly to Martha and Tish, assuring them they were good aunts, but Ioan’s self-proclaimed grandmother had visited more often, and therefore Ioan liked her more. Not their fault, Jack told them, it was just that Ioan was… shy. But when Francine was willing to part with Ioan long enough, Martha and Tish did get their turns. Ioan tolerated it.

“You said he’s walking?” Tish asked, putting his feet down on the ground.

She let Ioan cling to her fingers as she took a small loop around Gwen’s living room. Jack watched as Ioan tried to escape from her, tugging on her as his little feet took him faster than Tish was obviously expecting. Still, she held tight and forced him to walk at a normal pace. She marched him right up to where Anwen was sitting on the floor, then sat him down. Anwen, because she was Anwen, let out a high-pitched squeal, then reached out and smacked Ioan a few times. Gwen had long ago explained with a sigh that Anwen had the unfortunate tendency to abuse the things she loved. Jack was just glad that Ioan did not seem to mind the steady abuse from his closest… friend? Companion? Peer? In any case, Anwen didn’t hit too hard and Ioan tolerated it.

After the third smack, Ioan got bored of Anwen and he started searching around the room. Upon finding Jack, he smiled and started crawling towards him. There was a collective coo of adoration and a pathetic smattering of applause as Ioan stuck his butt in the air, hoisted himself up, and took the last few unsteady steps to Jack. He stumbled on the last step and landed in front of Francine, who was sitting beside Jack on Gwen’s sofa. She picked him up and kissed him on his cheeks, which Ioan accepted for a moment before reaching out to Jack with grabbing fists.

“He’s quite the happy baby, isn’t he?” Gwen’s mother, Mary, asked as Jack settled Ioan on his lap.

“Yeah,” Jack said, because that was the expected answer.

In truth, Ioan really… _wasn’t_. That’s not to say he wasn’t happy at all, no. Oh, no, Ioan was certainly happy when he wanted to be. Very happy, in fact. It was just that… well, when people said “happy baby” they generally meant those babies that loved everyone and everything and smiled almost constantly with bright eyes and an eager attitude. That was Anwen. Anwen was Happy Baby Supreme. Ioan, on the other hand, was more of a _content_ baby. He was happy when he was with Jack or eating his pea mash (which he loved desperately, for reasons unknown to Jack), pleased when he was playing or being held by Gwen, Anwen, and Francine, and tranquil when he was napping or sitting with other people he knew well enough. Otherwise he was just sort of, well, _mellow_. Not happy, not upset, just acceptant of the way things were. Content.

Jack had decided a while ago that this was fine. It was okay that Ioan was a content baby, not a happy baby. As long as Ioan could be happy, and chose to be when he wished, it was totally alright. It was all so very _Ianto_ of him, Jack had figured. Then he had picked Ioan up to feed him some more pea mash and made funny faces until Ioan giggled so hard he cried.

“Happy baby,” Mary said again in the present.

She reached down over the sofa and stroked a hand through Ioan’s soft hair. Those were Jack’s curls, Jack suddenly realised. Ianto’s hair had gotten a little curly when he had accidentally let it grow out, but those curls on Ioan’s head? Jack had seen those before, back on Boeshane, every time he looked in the mirror. They had been lighter, though. Ioan had Ianto’s hair colour, but definitely Jack’s curls.

“Just the perfect friend for Anwen,” Mary said. “I mean, just look at him!”

She gestured a hand to Ioan, who had leaned into Jack to rest on him. Jack ran a hand gently up and down Ioan’s back.

“Such a sweetheart,” Mary continued. “Evens out Anwen’s fiery temperament.”

Jack highly doubted anyone or anything could even Anwen out. Anwen was a mini Gwen on steroids. He would never say that to Gwen, though. Maybe to Rhys.

* * *

Three days after Ioan turned one years old, Ioan got sick.

It had all started when Jack had stuck him in his highchair and poured out a few of those yoghurt drop things onto his tray for him to snack on, then went off to the loo to relieve himself. He had come back to find Ioan with his head down on the tray. Jack’s heart had nearly stopped. It restarted when Jack realised Ioan was still breathing and had not choked on a strawberry yoghurt drop.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jack said, pulling up a chair.

He sat down and leaned over to where he could see Ioan’s face. Ioan’s cheek was resting on some yoghurt drops (Jack noted that he needed to better adjust the tray next time), his eyes looking sad. Jack stroked a finger down the upward facing cheek, but Ioan did not perk up as he usually did when Jack came into view.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked him gently, fear starting to re-emerge. “What’s the matter, huh?”

Ioan coughed a nasty, wet cough. Disgusting. And worrisome.

Jack sat Ioan up briefly to pull the tray out and lifted Ioan out of the highchair. He brushed some goop from melted yoghurt drops from Ioan’s cheek, then put the back of his hand to Ioan’s forehead. How had he done this with Ianto that one time? Lips to the forehead? Jack did that, too, both to feel the heat and to comfort his son. When Ioan’s forehead felt hot against Jack’s lips, he went to get the thermometer.

The temperature was high. A little too high. He called Martha.

“God, you have better have a good explanation for this,” Martha growled.

Jack didn’t care if he had just interrupted anything important. Ioan’s head was resting on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack could hear just how wheezy Ioan’s breath sounded. Whatever Martha was doing, it was hardly more important.

“What’s a bad temperature?” Jack asked.

“What?”

“I think Ioan has a fever,” Jack said. “Well, I know he has a fever, but I don’t know how bad it is.”

“How high is it?” Martha asked. She didn’t sound cranky now; she sounded worried. Shit. Should Jack be even more worried?

“Thirty-nine point three.”

“That’s… high,” she admitted. Oh, he definitely should be more worried. And now he _was_ more worried.

“Okay,” he said, calmly as he could. “What do I do?”

“How is he otherwise?”

“He’s tired. I set him down to eat and he was tired. I came back and his head was on his tray. He didn’t eat anything.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Um, he’s coughing,” Jack said. “It sounds… there’s gotta be a lot of mucus behind it. It sounds disgusting. And he’s wheezing.”

A sharp inhale came from the other end of the call. Jack’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“What?” he asked, dread filling the place where his heart used to sit.

“Jack, I’m going to suggest you take Ioan to the hospital.”

“Oh,” Jack said. That was a very good description of how he was feeling. Just… _oh_. “Accident and Emergency, or—"

“There, an urgent treatment centre, wherever. Just get him somewhere someone can look over him. Now.”

“Right.”

Jack hung up without any goodbyes or follow ups, figuring it Martha would understand. She was both a doctor and his friend, how could she not?

He hurried into Ioan’s room, grabbed some shoes and stuffed Ioan’s feet into them carefully, not even bothering to admire how adorable baby shoes were. He shoved his own feet into his boots quickly, grabbing his keys and hustling out to the car.

Jack took him to A&E, feeling it was a safer bet. Turns out, it was.

“Pneumonia,” the paediatricians told him after a chest x-ray.

And then Ioan spent the night in the hospital, hooked up to an IV, oxygen, and a few monitors. The entire time, Jack felt like his world was ending. All over again.

When he was calm enough, he wondered how it happened so fast. Was it fast? It felt like it was fast. One minute, Ioan was just tired, then it was a fever, and then they were here, where the doctors said Ioan was going to be fine, but they couldn’t say it without a tone that made Jack well aware they were just saying it for his benefit. Yeah. It was fast.

“Bacterial pneumonia is like that sometimes,” a doctor said when he asked. She had a false smile. Jack wanted to feed her to a Weevil. “He’ll be fine.”

Ioan spent a good bit of the time sleeping. Good, because Jack didn’t want to face the consequences of disrupting his sleep schedule. Jack watched him sleep for a bit. He looked small, behind the IV and oxygen. Really, _really_ small.

Rattling around the back of his mind somewhere were thoughts of fifty-first century genes, ill-suited in a son that lived in the twenty-first century. Had he caused this? There was a reason the Time Agency had stripped his fertility. Was it possible that incompatibility was one of them? Jack needed to find a geneticist.

All of Ioan’s nurses and doctors thought he was “the sweetest thing ever!” Jack wondered if they all agreed to say the same thing. One of them brought Ioan a plush yellow duck. Ioan liked that. He especially liked it when Jack pretended to be the duck and talked in funny voices. Well. He liked the funny sounds of the voices, anyway; Jack wasn’t sure he grasped the complexities of speech (or the fact that ducks didn’t speak in the first place) to find the rest of it funny.

Ioan came home two nights later. The yellow duck, which Jack had dubbed “Daisy” because he could, came with them, along with some antibiotics and a lot of reassurances that Ioan would be okay. Ioan clung onto Daisy the entire ride home, while the antibiotics rest in Jack’s pocket and the reassurances flew out the window.

Martha greeted them at home, as per his request. He thanked her, pretended to have a nice, normal, adult conversation for a few minutes, then bombarded her with his fears.

“They said he’ll be coughing for a few weeks.”

“Yep,” Martha said, kissing Ioan’s cheek noisily.

“Is that normal?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“But—”

“Jack,” she sighed. “He’ll be fine. _Really_.”

Jack watched her play with Ioan and Daisy, making Ioan reach out for Daisy before moving it to the side for him to chase after.

“What if I did this?” he asked.

Martha glanced up at him, stunned, and he explained to her every thought that had run through his head these past two days about genetics and the two opposing time periods.

“Well,” she said when he had finished. “I’m no geneticist, so I can’t tell you if you’re right or not…”

“But you think I’m right.”

“No, I think you’re paranoid.”

Jack stared at her. “What?”

With a sigh, she set Ioan down on the carpeted floor with his Daisy, then folded her hands on her lap and looked up at Jack.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe your genes mean he isn’t prepared for the twenty-first century. Maybe you fucked over Ioan’s immune system.”

He sucked in a breath. It felt like a punch to his gut, to hear it like that. But this was good. This was the truth.

“But maybe you’re wrong,” Martha said.

Jack opened his mouth to argue that, because how could he be wrong? But she shut him up before he had the chance to say otherwise.

“And I think you are,” she said. “Have you seen Ioan get this sick otherwise?”

He had to admit, this was a first.

“And didn’t I check him over? With my very good, very accurate Tellernian scanner?”

“Yes.”

“Did I find anything that would suggest that he has a crap immune system?”

“No.”

“No,” she agreed. “I didn’t. And I would have, if he did have one. So will you please chill out?”

“But what about—”

“But what about what?” she interrupted. “Jack, these things happen. Really. People get sick. All the time.”

“Yeah, and—”

“And he got really sick. It happens. Hell, he could get really sick a few more times. It _still_ _happens_ ,” Martha said before Jack could protest again. “This world is full of disease and viruses and bacteria and all sorts of gross shit. You want to know what I think?”

Jack purposefully did not try answer this time.

“I think,” she said, leaning in, “there is a lot more bad things still to come for Ioan.”

There was nothing for Jack to do but stare at her.

“And you know what else?” she asked. “There is a lot more good things, too. Because that’s how the world works. People get sick, they get better, their lives go on, they end up happy, they get sad, they get sick, they get better… and over and over again.”

She patted his knee.

“Really, Jack,” she said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Well, you have everything to worry about, but that’s okay. That’s parenting. God, look at you! You’ve gotten through a whole year being a great dad!”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he said.

“Well, it should, because it’s true,” she said. “And your paranoia is… kind of expected. Late, but expected. But you don’t have to freak out. Ioan will have a life, and it will be just like any other: ups and downs and twists and turns. And you’ve just got to go with it. Yeah, it’ll suck sometimes, but it’ll also be great. And I think you already know that. You just haven’t had to deal with it _this much_ yet.”

Ioan babbled quietly to himself as he bounced his Daisy around the floor.

“I know you miss him,” Martha said gently. Jack glanced at her sharply. “I do, too. I didn’t know him as well as you, but anybody who met him knew how great Ianto was. And yeah, he’s gone. But that doesn’t mean Ioan is doomed to tragedy just because Ianto died.”

She reached out and put a hand on his cheek.

“Ioan will be okay,” she assured him.

Jack eyed her carefully for a moment.

“How did you get so smart, Martha Jones?” he asked.

“Oh, come on, you’ve met my mum,” she laughed. “She wants nothing but brilliance. And that’s a warning, by the way. Ioan is a Jones, even if he isn’t, you know, a _Jones_ Jones. She’s already snatched him up.”

She kissed his cheek and stood up.

“Now stop sulking and pick up your son,” she ordered. “He’s probably going to want a lot of cuddles in the next week.”

She stooped low, smoothing some of Ioan’s curls and kissing his head.

“You be good for your daddy,” she told him. “And you make sure he pays you lots and lots of attention. Otherwise Auntie Martha will be very cross and will have to come steal you away.”

Ioan blinked up at her as she smiled at him.

“So serious,” she chuckled as she straightened up. “Smile more for your daddy, please. He needs it.”

She waved goodbye to Jack, then picked up her bag and left. Jack stared a while at the place where she used to sit, running everything over in his mind until it became too much to deal with. He shook his head, then slid from Ianto’s old sofa to the floor. Ioan crawled over to him and Jack lifted him up into the air, bringing him down again to press kisses all over his face.

“I know Martha said you’ll get sick again,” Jack told him as he burbled happily. “But try not to, please? For me?”

Ioan laughed as Jack blew a raspberry on his cheek.

* * *

“Get back here, you little rascal!” Jack cried.

Ioan’s stompy little footsteps thudded through the hall, trailing along with his giggles.

“Hey!” Jack said, chasing after him.

Ioan shrieked and ran faster, but his tiny legs didn’t carry him much farther before Jack caught up and scooped him up.

“Gotcha!” Jack said.

Ioan squirmed and squirmed in Jack’s arms, struggling to get out as he laughed. Jack caved and let Ioan wriggle himself free. Ioan promptly took off again.

“I’m gonna get you!” Jack called after him.

This time, he played it a little fairer, allowing Ioan to run his energy out. Jack pretended to chase him through the sitting room and the kitchen, around the dining table and back into the bathroom. He swooped in then and hoisted Ioan into the air. Jack bounced Ioan once, twice, thrice into the air, then lowered him down just enough to make him giggle as Jack pretended to eat him, making loud and exaggerated chewing noises.

“Mmmm,” Jack said. “Delicious!”

Ioan squealed in glee, kicking his feet excitedly as Jack pretended to chomp off his nose. He went on to gobble all of Ioan up, then relented as Ioan laughed himself breathless. Jack gently put him on the ground. Ioan, ready to start it all over again, started to dash off, but Jack nabbed his sleeve before he could get anywhere.

“Not so fast,” Jack said. “Bath time. Then… haircut.”

Ioan, who did not like the concept of baths one bit, struggled harder to get away. Jack picked him up again before he could escape. Having realised this was no longer a game, Ioan started pouting.

Jack’s heart nearly stopped.

This wasn’t Ioan’s pouting. Ioan’s normal pouting consisted of tears and wails. This was… well… this was _Ianto’s_ pout. Displeased frown, mouth turned down into a moue, bottom lip stuck ever-so-slightly out. Totally, entirely _Ianto_.

“How did you make that face?” Jack asked, the shocked tone in his voice evident even to himself.

Ioan just pouted more.

“Where did you learn that?” Jack went on. “Nobody taught you that!”

Sensing a shift in mood, Ioan’s pout lessened, working its way back into a smile. He started writhing in Jack’s arms again in another attempt to free himself, but Jack clung tight.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Jack said. “We are getting you in that bath if it’s the last thing I do!”

Ioan let out a cry of unhappiness, his lip starting to wobble as Jack firmly clamped down his hold on Ioan. The tears started in full just as Jack reached down and turned on the tap. Now _that_ was Ioan’s pouting: big, fat tears and all.

The crying stopped just as Jack set him down in the bath. Ioan actually liked baths; it was just impossible to get him to remember that before the bath. He detested the idea of bathing, but the baths themselves were wonderful.

Ioan splashed his hands around in the shallow bathwater as Jack shampooed his hair with that baby bodywash and shampoo combination. Jack sniffed his hair, trying again for what felt like the billionth time to remember what that exact scent reminded him of. It was vaguely reminiscent of something from Jack’s childhood, but he could never recall just what exactly it was. He shrugged, then picked up the liquid measuring cup he used to wash off the suds. He shielded Ioan’s eyes, then gently dumped the water over Ioan’s hair, repeating that over and over until he was sure there was no shampoo-bodywash left in his hair.

When Ioan was squeaky clean, Jack lifted him out of the tub and stood him on the shower mat so that he could towel him down. Then he wrapped the towel around Ioan, tucking the top end into the towel so that it clung to him. Jack moved over to drain the bathtub and remove the measuring cup to dry it out. The pitter-patter of small wet feet alerted him of Ioan’s sudden departure, and he jumped up and raced after Ioan. Ioan, awkwardly running whilst still swaddled in a towel, did not make it farther than the bathroom door before Jack caught him.

“Naughty,” Jack chided.

Ioan was giggling again, pleased to be continuing his fun game. Jack, deciding to just roll with it, kissed his entire face. Ioan was hysterical by the time Jack kissed the very tip of his nose, tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. Jack kissed those away, too.

“Okay,” Jack said, pulling Ioan with him as he stood up. “Haircut!”

“Haircut” was a new word for Ioan (the last one happened months ago, probably too far back for his baby-memory to recall) and therefore had no idea how to react to that. However, Jack managed to put enough cheer into the word that Ioan did not seem to outright hate the prospect of a haircut. Good. Jack was giving him one whether he liked it or not.

Jack took him to the dining table, sitting him in the highchair, still rolled up in his towel. Gwen told him it helped keep the itchy hair off the last time she cut Anwen’s hair. Jack was sceptical about the trick, but then again, he hadn’t had a haircut in over two thousand years. His hair didn’t really grow.

With the soft brush, Jack sculpted the hair the way Gwen had showed him, then began to snip a little off the ends with the special scissors Gwen had lent him. He had to still Ioan every few seconds, because Ioan expected food while he was in his highchair and was constantly moving around to look for it, but he managed to cut the first few strands into a respectable length. He checked his progress before moving on.

Honestly, Jack didn’t really _want_ to cut Ioan’s hair. He looked absolutely adorable, with his dark curls framing his face. But it was starting to get to the point where Jack didn’t really know what to do with them. They were too long and too curly, and Jack hadn’t dealt with that problem in, well, two thousand years. Actually, far more than two thousand years. Possibly even never. His father had always dealt with his hair when he was young enough for it to be this curly. So, Jack was at a loss for what to do with Ioan’s curls. The best thing he knew was to cut them shorter, to make them more manageable. It was a shame, but for now, it had to be done. Someday, Jack would gain some hair knowledge, and then it would be different. Someday.

In the moment, Jack just had to take a step back, survey his work, and then accept the fact that he had just cut Ioan’s hair. For a heart-wrenching moment, he yearned for the longer curls, then shoved the yearning deep down and moved on.

“Right,” Jack said. “Let’s go put some clothes on you.”

He pulled Ioan out of the highchair, but before he took Ioan anywhere, he stood Ioan up on the highchair and brushed all the fallen hairs off him. He’d rather not trail hair all the way to Ioan’s room; one floor to sweep is enough.

Ioan, now donning his duck pyjamas, was ready to brush his tiny teeth and go to bed. Jack took him to the bathroom, double checked that the tub had drained properly, then proceeded in the delicate art of Brushing Teeth Without Letting Ioan Chomp on the Toothbrush, which was a very complicated and intricate form that Jack had worked diligently to master. This time, he only had to wrench it from Ioan’s teeth once.

“Look,” Jack said, hoisting Ioan up to see at the mirror and pointing at his reflection. “Do you see yourself?”

Everyone said eighteen months was when babies started becoming aware of themselves in the mirror. Ioan held no such interest in his reflection, not when Jack’s was _right there_. Ioan reached a hand out for Mirror Jack.

“No, no, no,” Jack said, moving his hand so that it went to his own reflection. “You, Ioan. That’s _you_.””

Ioan still preferred his father’s image to his own, no matter how hard Jack tried to divert his attention. Eventually, Jack just gave up.

“Oh, Ioan,” Jack laughed. “You are one of a kind.”

He kissed Ioan gently.

“Now, make that face again,” Jack said.

Ioan did not make any face, probably because he had no idea what Jack was instructing him to do, or that Jack was instructing him to do something in the first place.

“Hm, okay,” Jack said. “Um… how do you feel about another bath?”

That didn’t work; Ioan just started struggling against Jack’s hold.

“You really forgot you like baths already?” Jack asked, incredulous. “Too bad! You’re getting another!”

Instead of pouting, Ioan just began to cry. Jack shook his head, smiling to himself as he held Ioan close. Christ, what was it with that kid and baths?

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Jack soothed him as he cried into Jack’s shoulder. “You’re okay. Shhh… You’re okay.”

Then he took Ioan to the bedroom, read him his favourite story, then tucked him into the cot attached to Jack’s bed. Ioan held out his hand and clenched it into a fist a few times, his typical way of expressing that he expected his Daisy in his hands _immediately_.

“But what if Daisy wants to sleep with _me_ tonight?” Jack asked.

Ioan pouted.

Even in the dim light, Jack could see the Ianto written all over Ioan’s face, and he privately celebrated good genes as he tucked Ioan’s Daisy in next to him and kissed him goodnight.

* * *

UNIT contacted him while he was in the middle of feeding Ioan carrots. Attempting to feed Ioan carrots, anyway. Most of them ended up on the floor. Ioan hated carrots.

“Listen,” Jack hissed into his mobile as Ioan dropped another on the floor. “This had better be a formal apology for the acts of UNIT in their involvement in the—”

“A formal apology was given,” said the so-called Colonel Anya Hayes.

“Not to me.”

“Yes, to you. Torchwood received one. If you weren’t there to collect, that is hardly our problem.”

“This isn’t about Torchwood,” Jack said. “This is about Iant—”

“A formal apology was given to Torchwood, and if you were too far up your own arse to collect it, then I can hardly—”

Jack ended the call right there. Whatever they had to say, he did not care. He had a son who needed to learn to eat carrots, and that was far more important than UNIT’s posturing and preening.

“Aeroplane,” Jack said, scooping up another carrot. “Here it comes!”

He piloted the child-spork plane and its sole carrot passenger to Ioan’s mouth. Ioan turned his face to the side.

“Oh, come on,” Jack said. “No aeroplanes? Okay. Fine. What about trains?”

He pulled the spork back and restarted the trek, this time making train noises. Ioan still would not eat the carrot.

“Lorry?”

Beeping and honking would not get Ioan to open his mouth.

“Um… submarine?”

Glub-glub noises (because Jack honestly didn’t know what sounds submarines made) were also frowned upon by Ioan.

“Motorboat?”

The motorboat never made it to the docks.

“Ambulance?”

The patient was denied entry to the hospital.

Jack was debating between police car and fire engine when his mobile rang again. He debated not answering it. He did anyway, just to see what UNIT would say this time. If it was good things, well, good. If it was bad things, then he got the satisfaction of hanging up on them again.

“Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Our sincerest apologies,” an entirely new voice said.

“Oh, this is good,” Jack said, dumping the carrot back in the bowl and sitting back in his chair. “This is progress. But this better be an apology for not apologising for not giving me a formal apology. If you’re skipping straight to the formal apology, I hate to inform you, it ain’t gonna cut it.”

There was a brief pause on the other side of the line.

“May we start over again?” the voice asked politely.

“As long as I get my apologies, I don’t give a damn,” Jack said.

He mouthed a “sorry” to Ioan, who didn’t know “damn” was a swear in the first place. He was just happy that there was no carrot in his face anymore.

“I’m Brigadier Katherine Tate. I suppose I am to apologise for my subordinate’s… miscommunication.”

_“Miscommunication?”_

“What I mean to say is, I am sorry that you were treated as such.”

“Good, but not good enough,” Jack said. He scooped up a new carrot to offer a pouting Ioan. “Why was there no apology for your actions in the 456 affair?”

“We, ah, we were not aware a personal apology was necessary.”

“I lost my grandson and my child’s father—” (killed—Jack had killed them) “—and you think I don’t deserve an apology for what you did?”

“In all fairness,” Brigadier Tate said, “we had no part in those. In fact, our role was mainly a negotiating party on all fronts. We were attempting to dissuade—”

“I don’t care whether you negotiated or sat behind and did nothing. You were a part of it, and you didn’t stop it. I hold you accountable for everything that came after the decision to negotiate instead of fixing the problem,” Jack spat. “You failed me, you failed Ianto Jones, you failed Steven Carter, and you failed the world’s children and parents.”

“I’m… sorry you feel that way. We did our best in a difficult situation.”

“That’s not an apology. That’s hiding behind excuses.”

“Look, Captain, I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Brigadier Tate snapped. “I can write you the same apology we sent to Torchwood, if that would make you happy, but I’m certain it won’t.” She let out a gusty sigh. “This isn’t why we called you, you know.”

“Then why?” Jack asked.

“We have an offer for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You haven’t even heard it.”

Jack bit back a comment about wanting to keep it that way. Part of him did really want to tell UNIT to fuck off, much like he had in his Torchwood days, but the other part of him… Okay. He loved being Ioan’s father. It was great. Easily one of the best things he had ever done. But he couldn’t lie, he missed being Captain Jack Harkness, defender of the Earth (South Wales, really). He missed when his greatcoat was more than just a coat. He missed the thrill of a good case. He missed the… oh, god, he was starting to sound like one of those detective shows where their lives went to shit and all they did was reminisce about being a goddamn detective.

Point was, he missed Torchwood. And if UNIT was going to offer something, _anything_ , then Jack wanted it, because in some way, shape, or form, it was going to have to do with Torchwood.

He sighed, forced the chunk of carrot into Ioan’s mouth, then said: “What is it?”

“We’d like to make a contract with you.”

“What sort of contract?” Jack asked, watching Ioan carefully so that he wouldn’t spit out the carrot.

“That is something best discussed in person, and not over an unsecure phone call.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Is there a time you would be willing to meet with me?”

That stumped Jack for a moment. Anytime. He had time anytime. But only if they wanted him to show up with Ioan in tow. And Ioan would probably be grumpy, so Jack would also be grumpy.

Oh. Babysitters. He could call some stupid teenager to watch his kid. On second thought, no stupid teenagers. But he did know a few people who live relatively close to a UNIT base.

They set a date for next Wednesday at noon, then Brigadier Tate rung off. Jack immediately dialled another number.

“Tish!” he said as he force-fed Ioan another carrot. “How would you like to be the best aunt ever for a day?”

“I’m already the best aunt ever,” Tish retorted.

“Martha disagrees.”

“Martha’s wrong,” Tish said. “Are you coming up to London?”

“Yeah. Next Wednesday. You want a free kid for a few hours? All the benefits of being a parent and none of the consequences…”

Tish sighed. “You know I’d love to, it’s just… I got this new job. I can’t start calling out now, not when I’m still trying to get them to like me.”

“I understand,” Jack said. “Suck up to the bosses. Always a good idea. Trust me. Former boss here.”

Then Jack felt a pang in his chest as he thought about one employee who particularly loved sucking up to his boss.

“Yeah. Just hoping this one isn’t a madman with a taste for killing-sprees,” Tish joked.

And just like that, the pang worsened.

“But Mum’ll gladly take him,” Tish added brightly, as if she hadn’t just darkened the rest of Jack’s day. “You know she’ll take any chance she gets to spoil her grandkids.”

“Ioan isn’t her—”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone stopped listening to you a long time ago,” Tish said.

They chatted amiably for a while as Jack finished feeding Ioan the carrots. Tish told him about her job (the boss thankfully sounded level-headed) and Jack updated her on the past few weeks of Ioan’s life. They ended the call with a promise to see each other that Wednesday evening after Tish returned from work, and then Jack made his fourth and final call of the day.

“You called Tish first?” Francine demanded when Jack informed her of the situation.

“Well, I didn’t want to bother you,” Jack lied. Best not to start on the wrong foot.

“Nonsense,” Francine said. “Bring him over. Ioan and I will have a lovely time. He won’t even miss you.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring.”

“He’ll be all the rage about Nanna Francine by the time we’re done.”

“Francine, you’re not—”

“Save it for someone who cares,” Francine dismissed.

“What is it with everyone and cutting me off today?” Jack wondered.

Francine then demanded to talk to Ioan over the phone. Ioan, who didn’t understand phone calls, was confused. He also thought Jack’s mobile was a neat toy and kept trying to take it from Jack’s hand.

“Right, he’ll see you next Wednesday,” Jack said when fending off Ioan’s grabbing hands grew tiresome.

“Oh, fine.”

Come Wednesday, Jack had nearly backed out of the meeting. Whatever they had to offer him, was it worth it? He had a life, a good one, and he wasn’t about to throw it aside for the whims of UNIT. No way.

But Jack didn’t cancel, much to the delight of Francine and Ioan, who were absolutely ecstatic to be spending the afternoon together. Francine promised a trip to the zoo.

Hours later, Jack returned in time for dinner with Tish and Francine, his life all the lighter for the formal letter in his pocket and the accepted job offer. And Ioan ate the carrots Francine fed him. Little suck-up.

* * *

It was actually Gwen who approached him about it.

Ioan and Anwen were having a “playdate” at the Cooper-Williams house, which really meant Anwen was playing and Ioan was watching her play as he held onto his favourite toys so that she didn’t take them. Ioan still had to work on the concept of sharing. Anwen still had to work on the concept of not being a walking tornado.

“Mammy, puppy!” Anwen exclaimed as she pointed to the plush dog in Ioan’s hand.

“It’s his turn to play with it,” Gwen told her.

“Want it!” Anwen said.

She scooted closer to Ioan, but Ioan scowled at her and held it close to his chest possessively. Jack bit back a laugh. God, he was so _cute_ when he was cross.

“Want it!” Anwen repeated, trying to grab it.

“Anwen,” Gwen warned as Ioan twisted away from Anwen’s reaching hands. “Play fair.”

“Share the toys,” Jack reminded Ioan. Ioan pouted and threw the dog at the floor. “Thank you.”

The crisis was only averted for a few minutes at a time before Anwen wanted something else that Ioan was clinging desperately to. Jack sighed after the third happening, muttering under his breath about two-year-olds.

“You wouldn’t think Ioan’s two,” Gwen said thoughtfully.

Jack frowned at her. “Why not?”

“Well,” she said with a shrug. “He’s sort of small. And he doesn’t really… talk.”

Not necessarily true; Ioan talked. He could say words like “Daddy” and “no” and “Daisy” and—well, that was about it. Jack told this to Gwen, who shook her head and pointed to Anwen, who was demanding a plastic horse from Ioan.

“She has more than a three-word vocabulary,” Gwen said. “She’s chatty, but she’s got an average vocabulary for their age.”

“He’s just serious. Not talkative,” Jack said. “Ianto was, too.”

“Yes, but even Ianto had a gob on him when you got him talking,” Gwen reminded him. “This is… this is something else.”

Jack thought about that for quite some time. He hadn’t really noticed it before. Was he a bad father for not noticing? Was he a bad father for not getting Ioan to speak? Was he hindering his child in some way? Was Ioan ever going to start speaking?

For a week, these thoughts plagued Jack. Then he caved into his fears and called Martha.

Martha, in typical Martha fashion, told him he was panicking and that Ioan would probably start talking when he wanted. Jack begged her to do some tests, any tests, just to make certain. She laughed at him, told him that she wasn’t a paediatrician, then told him to stop worrying.

Jack hung up on her and immediately called up Brigadier Tate for a few favours.

When Martha called him back a week later to confirm Ioan’s appointment, she was none too happy. Jack didn’t necessarily care. He drove Ioan up to London, handed him off to his Aunt Martha, and refused to feel guilty about going behind her back, or for, as she put it, “wasting UNIT’s resources.”

Ioan was none too pleased when he walked back out later holding Martha’s hand. Martha, on the other hand, looked calm. Jack marvelled for a moment at the character reversal, then scooped a cranky Ioan into his arms and waited for Martha’s verdict.

“I told you,” Martha said, “he’s just a late bloomer. He’ll talk when he wants to. Listen to me next time I tell you that, because whatever you may think, UNIT does _not_ have a paediatric division. Talk to a normal doctor next time if you’re not going to listen.”

“Right,” Jack said, holding Ioan close to him. Ioan curled his fingers into Jack’s coat and sniffed dramatically. “So… he’s perfectly normal?”

Martha made a face.

“What is it?” Jack asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“Calm down and let me explain, will you?” Martha sighed.

She rummaged through the papers on her clipboard until she found one, pulled it out, and handed it to Jack. He studied it momentarily, then looked up at her.

“Martha…”

“We’re not paediatricians and we’re not audiologists,” she said. “I had to use a Reclusian sonar device for that. It’s fast and accurate, so an audiologist should have no problems with that audiogram, but I can’t do anything more for Ioan by myself.”

“Just tell me what this means,” Jack snapped. Ioan clung tighter to him.

Martha sighed, taking the paper back in her hands. She pointed out the test for his left ear and right ear, which were mostly the same, falling in the range of mild hearing loss.

“It’s not why he’s not talking,” she said. “Not entirely. Most kids with mild hearing loss aren’t noticed until they reach school. You’re very lucky Reclusian sonar devices are very fine-tuned. Some audiogram tests aren’t good enough to catch mild hearing loss in kids.”

“But?”

“But nothing, Jack,” she said. “Really, this isn’t my expertise. You need to visit an audiologist for this.”

She ruffled Ioan’s hair and kissed him and Jack both on the cheeks as a goodbye, then sent them on their way. Jack got a few steps down the hall before she called his name. He turned around and she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“And before you start freaking out,” Martha said, “remember what I told you a year ago. Goods and bads, Jack.”

The audiologist Martha had recommended in a follow-up email was helpful. Dr. Eva Martin was kind and helpful. Jack liked her. Ioan did not. Then again, Ioan disliked anyone and anything that bothered him, and Dr. Martin’s test were certainly bothersome. He clung on tight to Daisy (Jack had allowed him to bring her with if he promised to be good) and glowered as Dr. Martin began discussing with Jack the full scope of Ioan’s hearing and the prospect of hearing aids, which, evidently, were rather advised, considering how near Ioan’s hearing loss was to moderate hearing loss.

“You know, some parents start crying,” Dr. Martin said as they were getting ready to leave.

“I don’t think this warrants crying,” Jack said, bundling Ioan up in his coat. “It’s different, not the end of the world.”

“Quite right,” she agreed. “But I think…”

She trailed off. Jack finished zipping Ioan’s coat and looked over at her.

“You’re not a bad parent for not noticing,” she said.

Jack frowned. “I never said I was.”

She shrugged. “Your friend Dr. Jones said you might think you were. She also thought you were probably going to react poorly.”

“I’m not,” Jack said as he picked Ioan up.

“I see that,” she said. “Though she seemed under the impression you have a yearly ‘freak out’ over your son.”

Jack readjusted Ioan in his arms. He supposed he did panic a bit every year right around Ioan’s birthday. He “freaked out” about keeping him when he was born, about his immune systems last year, and his development this year. He hoped there wouldn’t be something worrying next year.

* * *

Ioan did not like his hearing aids at first. Then he suddenly did a complete one-eighty and didn’t mind them at all. Confused the hell out of Jack. He supposed he could live with being confused, so long as he didn’t have to dive to catch them before they hit the floor after Ioan tried throwing them across the room.

The funny thing was, when Jack had picked the colour (because when he had tried to ask Ioan, Ioan had unhelpfully pointed to every single colour), Jack had picked blue because, for one, he _liked_ blue. It was a nice colour. Relaxing. Deep. Mysterious. But, more importantly, blue went with almost everything. No fear of clashing outfits with blue.

He didn’t realise until later that Ioan’s entire wardrobe was blue, too.

Not entirely blue, of course. There were enough whites and greys to make it look somewhat balanced, but the majority was blue. Navy, cobalt, cornflower, steel, royal, indigo; name it, and it was in Ioan’s wardrobe. Oops?

Gwen laughed at him when he told her this. He had dropped Ioan off at her house so he could go “run an errand” for UNIT, and she had commented how cute Ioan looked in his tiny, Prussian blue dress shirt.

“No red?” Gwen gasped. “Not even _one_ shirt?”

“I think there’s a pair of red pants somewhere,” Jack said.

“Christ. How is he Ianto’s son without any red?” she asked.

He grimaced. He hadn’t even thought of that.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, come on. You know damn well Ianto wouldn’t care about that.”

Except he probably would have, even if only in jest, and they both knew that. It made fore a very tense moment.

Jack coughed. “Um, right. Gotta get going. Bye, kiddo. Love you.”

He smacked a noisy kiss on Ioan’s head and accepted the returned hug. Then he waved to Anwen playing with her toys in the distance, pecked Gwen’s cheek, and was off.

Twelve hours and a sudden loss of faith in humanity later, Jack returned to pick up Ioan. Gwen opened the door to his soft knock and took one look at him before crossing her arms and frowning at him like he was some wayward husband.

“What’s happened?”

“Why do you think anything’s happened?” he asked.

“Because you look like how you looked when you came back from a negative Rift spike,” she said. “You look terrible.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said. “You are absolutely not. What are they making you _do_?”

“Just leave it,” he said, knowing full well “leave it” was not a command Gwen was trained to do.

“Jack—”

“Is Ioan ready to go?”

She eyed him for a moment, searching his face for something, then sighed and moved aside so he could come in.

Jack blinked at the scene in front of him. Ioan had on a blue tulle skirt under his coat. His Daisy had a piece of paper taped around her midriff (or where her midriff would be if she had one), coloured haphazardly with blue crayon. Curious, Jack looked over at Gwen.

“We went shopping,” Gwen said.

“Shopping!” Anwen squealed. She was wearing her own tulle skirt, long and pink, scrunched in her hands as she attempted to make it spin around as she twirled.

“Tried to get him something red,” Gwen explained. “He said no to _everything_. I think you’ve brainwashed him. Only wanted blue.”

“And the skirt?”

“Anwen wanted one. Ioan wanted one after she wanted one. Then he wanted Daisy to have one.”

Jack knelt on the floor and Ioan came running up to him. Daisy accidentally smacked into the side of Jack’s face as Ioan threw his little arms around him. Jack felt the small spark of his remaining happiness grow and grow as Ioan held onto him. Oh, there was nothing better than a hug from Ioan. Even the darkest of days seemed a little brighter with Ioan there.

“Did Aunt Gwen get you a skirt?” Jack asked him.

Ioan stepped back from the hug and shoved a hip forward to show Jack the blue tulle.

“And did Daisy get one, too?”

Ioan thrust Daisy at Jack, displaying the now-crumpled paper ring around Daisy’s duck-waist.

“Did Aunt Gwen help you make that?”

Ioan nodded.

Jack smiled. “I think we need to thank Aunt Gwen, huh?”

Ioan nodded again, handed his Daisy to Jack, then walked over to Gwen to hug her legs.

 _“Thanks_ ,” Jack mouthed to her.

 _“You’re welcome_ ,” she mouthed back.

Jack stood. “Okay, Ioan. Got everything?”

Ioan darted back to him, snatching Daisy back from him. He hugged her tight for a moment, further crinkling the paper skirt, then reached up and took Jack’s awaiting hand.

“Thanks,” Jack said to Gwen as they headed out. “Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Goodnight!”

* * *

It snowed once when they were in Scotland. Just the once. Jack paused his archiving and had taken a long lunch break to go show it to Ioan.

“Snow!” Jack told him.

He caught a flake in his hand, swiftly dropping to a crouch to show it to Ioan. Ioan peered down into Jack’s hand, making a sad sound as the snowflake melted into nothing.

“They melt very fast,” Jack explained. “They’re made of water. Like rain. Except their frozen, so when they hit some heat, poof! They melt.”

Ioan blinked rapidly as Jack’s hands did what he thought to be a pretty good visualisation of his “poof!” Jack laughed and kissed the tip of his tiny nose.

“Want to catch one?” Jack asked him.

Nodding, Ioan held out his hands for “catch.” Jack grinned at the outstretched hands, ready to capture a snowflake as if it were a ball Jack was throwing at him. He reached out and moved Ioan’s hands from their ineffective stance, flattening them out so that flakes could land in them.

“Look!” Jack said as one landed on the heel of his gloved palm. “You got one!”

Ioan clapped his hands together, capturing the snowflake. Jack burst out laughing.

“You squished it!” Jack exclaimed.

Ioan giggled.

“It’s all squished and melted now!”

Ioan held out his hands for another snowflake, snapping his hands closed when he caught another and giggling even harder at Jack’s gasp of mock-horror. This was an interesting game that captivated Ioan for five minutes. And then Jack introduced a new angle.

“Can you catch them on your tongue?”

His eyes going wide, Ioan let his tongue slip through his lips. Jack’s laughter nearly knocked him from his precarious crouch. Ioan stuck the tip of his tiny tongue out, jutting his head forward to catch a snowflake. Jack barely got to his mobile in time to capture a picture.

“Hey, hey, kiddo,” he said when he had himself under control.

His composure slipped again as Ioan turned his head back to Jack, questions in his eyes and tongue still hanging out. Jack overbalanced this time, landing with his arse right in the wet, snowy grass. Tears trickled down the side of his face.

“That’s not how you do it,” Jack gasped as soon as he could manage the breath. “Just… oh, god. Sit still and wait for one to fall. Like with your hands.”

“Sit still” was taken literally as Ioan plonked down in the grass beside Jack. Jack lost it again.

Archie found them out there soon after.

“Jack, what in blazes are you doing?”

Well, he was sitting on the ground, getting soaked to the bone, that was what. But it was okay that he’d have to change his clothes, because Ioan was sitting on his lap, staring up at the bright, snowy sky with awe that melted Jack’s heart faster than any snowflake.

“Come on,” Archie said. “We’ve got work to be doing.”

Jack kissed Ioan’s hair, reminding himself that it would need another haircut soon, then got up and carried him back to their room. They changed into less wet clothes and walked down to the kitchens to grab that lunch they were going to eat before.

That girl still worked in the kitchens. He watched her for a moment, just as she watched him. He could hand Ioan off to her and go down to work in the Archives. He _could_. But he wouldn’t. This girl tempted him in ways he hadn’t been tempted in a while, and that would only end up badly for both of them. All _three_ of them, actually, considering Ioan in the mix. So, he took Ioan’s hand, took their plate of sandwiches, going back to their room to eat them. Then he grabbed Daisy, some crayons and paper, and brought Ioan down into the “D” sections in the Archives.

Ioan hummed nonsensical tunes to himself as he laid on the floor, feet kicking up in the air behind him as he coloured on the papers. Daisy and Jack surveyed him as Jack continued to work, sometimes adding his own songs to Ioan’s humming.

Archie came in at one point, then walked straight back out, muttering things under his breath about training children to act like their parents. Jack frowned after him, then glanced down at Ioan, who was no longer colouring. He was hugging Daisy close and watching Jack with wide, observant eyes. Jack smiled, picked him up, and continued his filing one-handed, occasionally reaching out to stop Ioan’s hand from grabbing something it shouldn’t.

“Your dad came up here once to help Archie with the Archives,” Jack told him when Jack had finished for the day. “I’m not sure if he got to play in the snow, but I’m sure he would have liked to. Your dad was a giant kid, when he let himself be one. I suppose we both were. “

He kissed Ioan’s temple and set him down.

“Okay, grab your colours and your paper,” he said. “We’re all done for today. We can go play in the snow.”

Ioan sped to his things to pick them up with unparalleled glee.

* * *

Jack winced at the deep, scraping sound. He looked down to see Ioan pushing his tiny stepping stool up to the counter. Jack had bought that when he had decided he could not hold a toddler and cut carrots at the same time. Ioan, who was so very tiny, could stand on his tiptoes and barely, just _barely,_ see over the edge of the counter.

“Hi, kiddo,” Jack said as he cut another stripe of pastry.

“Byoobeeyee.”

He nearly dropped the knife.

“What was that?” he asked, setting the knife down and turning to his son.

“Byoobeeyee,” Ioan said.

He managed to get higher onto his toes and reach a small arm over the counter, pointing at the dish of blueberries.

“Yeah,” Jack said, astonished. “Blueberries.”

Ioan smiled and glanced up at him, sinking back onto his feet and clapping his hands together. His smile slowly turned into a frown when Jack continued to stare at him.

“Byoobeeyee!” he demanded.

Jack blinked, shaking himself from his reverie. “Sorry, kid. They’re for Nanna’s pie. We can’t eat them.”

Ioan pouted, folding his arms. Well, he attempted to fold his arms, anyway; he was essentially just hugging them angrily around himself.

“Byoobeeyee,” he said.

“Not now,” Jack said.

Ioan hmphed and stomped off, clearly displeased. Jack returned to making his lattice crust but found himself staring at the pastry in shock. Blueberry? Seriously? His fourth word was _blueberry_?

Tiny footsteps approached behind him, cautious in their step. Jack didn’t turn around. He still couldn’t give Ioan any of the blueberries, no matter how much he wanted them, and if Jack saw his pleading face, there would be no denying him. Ioan stepped back up onto his stool and something soft smacked Jack in the arm. Then smacked him again. And again. And again. And _again_. Jack ignored it for a few moments, right up until the smacking got to be too much to ignore.

“What?” he asked, glaring down at Ioan.

Ioan waved his Daisy up at him.

“Daisy wants byoobeeyees,” Ioan said, his face serious and his tone severe.

Jack stared at him again.

“Daisy wants blueberries,” Jack repeated slowly. “Daisy… wants blueberries.”

Ioan nodded, as if to confirm the statement.

“Daisy wants blueberries,” Jack murmured to himself, reaching into the cupboards to grab a bowl, then tipping all the blueberries into it.

“Daisy wants blueberries.”

“Sorry, what?” Martha asked. “You called me, in the _middle of an autopsy_ , to tell me that your son’s _stuffed_ _duck_ wants _blueberries_?”

“That’s what he said.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Daisy wants blueberries. Well, ‘byoobeeyees,’ but still… blueberries.”

Martha let out a whoop of excitement.

“See?” she declared. “I told you he’d talk when he felt like it!”

“I didn’t expect full sentences,” Jack said weakly.

“Mark it in the calendar!” she told him. “’Ioan says his first sentence.’”

“Speaking of calendars, you’re going to have to tell your mother that the pie I promised her won’t be ready for her birthday tomorrow,” Jack said. “Ioan is eating the filling.”

“Do you honestly think she’ll care? She’ll probably coo over Ioan for the entire party.” She tried on an approximation of her mother’s tone. “‘Oh, such a clever little boy! Who’s Nanna’s smart boy?’”

“Tish’s impersonation is better,” Jack said, and Martha scoffed.

He watched Ioan “feed” some blueberries to Daisy, then scarf them down himself. It was a very fun game, Jack could tell. Ioan was enjoying himself, and the blueberries, immensely.

“Do you think he’ll keep talking?” Jack asked.

“Yes, Jack,” Martha sighed. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Stop worrying.”

And sure enough, after Jack had hung up and Ioan had finished his bowl, Ioan held out the empty dish, looked at Jack with imploring eyes, and said: “More byoobeeyees, pyees.”

So, Jack got him some more blueberries.

* * *

“No, Daddy!”

Jack stopped in the middle of reciting the ancient (or, currently, premature) Boeshane poem about the yellow fish. He still couldn’t remember some of the words, but he made up his own to fit the English translation. It also still didn’t fit in the meter, but Ioan liked it all the same.

“No?” Jack asked.

“Not yeyyow fish!” Ioan told him.

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“I want Daisy story, Daddy! Daisy story!”

“Daisy story?” Jack asked. “ _Again_?”

Ioan nodded, cuddling his Daisy and his Daisy’s new friend, Stella the Bat. Stella the Bat was a birthday gift from the Cooper-Williamses. Ioan loved her with all his heart. Of course, that was all his heart that didn’t already belong to his Daisy.

“Alright, then,” Jack said slowly. There went switching it up for a night. “Want me to go get the book, or do you just want to hear it?”

Pulling Stella the Bat and Daisy tighter against his body, Ioan thought about it for some time. Then he beamed.

“Hear it,” he said.

Jack eyed him momentarily. “You sure?”

“Yes!”

“Odd choice, but okay,” Jack murmured to himself. Then he sighed, pulled the blankets up higher around Ioan’s chest, and recited Jane Simmons’s _Come Along, Daisy!_ from memory.

Ioan drifted off to sleep halfway through, his tight clutch on his Daisy and Stella the Bat loosening as he snored gently. Jack placed a kiss on his forehead, then went off to do some work before he went to bed, too. UNIT’s reports required more concentration and effort than Ianto’s ever had, and it took Jack forever to finish them. Too bad he wasn’t leader and couldn’t say “good enough” halfway through, then send his sexy, archivist lover to go file them away incomplete, and then make the disappointed frown on said sexy, archivist lover turn into a sated smile.

Jack sighed, looked at the time, and decided it was a good time to quit tonight. He turned off the lights as he wandered from the kitchen to the bedroom, stopping in the sitting room for a moment.

“Your son’s three now,” Jack told the picture of Ianto and Lisa. “And he is ridiculously fond of routine, just like you.”

He stroked a thumb over Ianto’s smiling face, smiled ruefully, then left the room, flicking the lights off behind him.

In the bedroom, he kissed Ioan’s forehead gently once more and removed the released Stella the Bat and Daisy from his side of the bed. He set them down on the floor, where Ioan could grab them in the morning, then slipped into bed beside him and tried to fall asleep.

It was a very good thing he was a light sleeper, because Ioan’s hand tapped him so softly that if Jack was any deeper asleep, he never would have felt it. Then again, it was also a bad thing that he was a light sleeper, because he might not have nearly shouted his head off if he wasn’t.

He somehow managed to keep his scream inside his chest, where it belonged. No Master here. Only Ioan, still tapping him weakly from his side of the bed.

“Daddy,” Ioan whispered.

“Mmmmwhat?”

“Tummy hurts.”

Jack nodded and closed his eyes again.

Then they shot back open. He sat up quickly, looking down at Ioan.

“Tummy hurts?” Jack asked. “How?”

“Yucky.”

Jack barely managed to gather Ioan in his arms and race to the bathroom before he vomited. It landed on the tiled floor, but that was far better than the duvet or the carpet.

“It’s okay,” Jack told Ioan as he sobbed into Jack’s chest. “Shhhh… it’s gonna be okay.”

He ran a hand up and down Ioan’s back, soothing the distraught boy as much as he could. Then he set Ioan down onto the soft bath rug.

“Stay right here,” Jack told him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He dashed to the bedroom to grab his mobile. Upon further contemplation, he snagged Ioan’s Daisy, too. There was the slight possibility Ioan could hurl again, and maybe even all over Daisy, but it was worth cleaning vomit out of a stuffed duck if it made Ioan feel the slightest bit better.

When he returned to the bathroom, he sat down on the shower mat, hoisted Ioan up onto his lap, and dialled Martha’s number.

“Oh, I owe her ten quid now,” Tish said.

“You’re not Martha,” Jack said bluntly.

“No, I’m not.”

“Where’s Martha?”

“On a date,” Tish said.

“A _date_?” Jack asked. “With who?”

“Don’t know.”

“Why do you have Martha’s mobile if she’s on a date with an unknown stranger?”

“’Cause she’s been dating him long enough to know he’s not a creep.”

“How long’s that been?”

“Couple of months.”

“And you don’t know who it is?” Jack asked, incredulous. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. Is there a way I can contact her?”

“No, and if there were, I wouldn’t be allowed to give it to you,” Tish told him.

Jack scowled. “Why not?”

“You couldn’t have waited a day, could you?” she asked, ignoring his question. “I thought you were going to wait to have your breakdown, like last year. You made it a week last year. Three days the year before. Nobody thought it was going to be on his _actual_ birthday but Martha.”

“I’m not having a breakdown!” Jack shouted. Ioan burrowed into Jack, whimpering slightly. Jack immediately craned his neck down to kiss his head, then returned to Tish with a softer tone. “He’s _sick_. I don’t know what to do.”

“And you’re calling for Martha instead of a hospital because…”

“Because she’s a doctor, too!”

“Martha lives in London and you live in Cardiff. What the hell do you think she’s going to do?”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that.

“Really, Jack, just look it up online like the rest of us.”

“But I don’t know if—”

“And if you can’t get the answers online,” she interrupted, “then call the goddamn hospital.”

Then she hung up on him just as Ioan started to heave again. This time, Jack held him over the toilet before the contents of his stomach came out.

What a way to turn three.

* * *

Jack woke up to a duck in his face.

“Hnnnnnnn,” Jack groaned as Ioan’s Daisy danced across his forehead.

“Wake up, Daddy!” Ioan shouted. “Daisy wants breakfast!”

“Daisy can wait,” Jack grumbled as he rolled onto his side.

He let out a loud _woosh_ of air as Ioan jumped onto his side, sitting right on his waist.

“Stop bein’ yazy!” Ioan said. “Wake up!”

“Ouch,” Jack breathed.

“Get up!”

“Okay, fine!” Jack cried. “Get off of me!”

Ioan cheered far too loudly for… oh, god. Five in the morning?

“Christ,” Jack muttered under his breath as he sat up.

Used to be he woke up at three routinely, and only after two, three hours sleep. That was before Ianto. After Ianto, it was four o’clock, with a good five hours. With Ioan… god, he needed a minimum of six if he wanted to make it through the day.

“Get up!” Ioan yelled again. “We going to da park today!”

“Are we?” Jack asked, cracking a stiff part of his neck. “Says who?”

Ioan pointed Daisy’s wing at him accusingly. “You!”

Oh. Right. He had promised they would go do something today and hadn’t really denied Ioan’s suggestion of the park. He hadn’t approved it, either, but with Ioan, omission practically equated acceptance. That boy had gotten wild ever since his sudden usage of speech. Well, wild with Jack. Put him in front of everyone who wasn’t Jack (or Francine, for that matter), he shut up and hid behind Jack’s legs.

He sighed heavily. “Fine.”

“Yay!”

Ioan started bouncing excitedly on his toes, hugging Daisy tight in celebration.

“But later this afternoon.”

“Awwwww,” Ioan pouted, slumping his shoulders and letting Daisy drop into a hand.

“Go get ready for the morning,” Jack told him. “Clothes.”

“I got dem!” Ioan said. He patted a hand on his clothed chest.

Jack surveyed him closely. Alright, so he _was_ wearing clothes. They didn’t match, but they were clothes and they were on, and somehow miraculously the right way. The outer clothes, anyway. Jack supposed he’d only know if the underwear was on right later.

“Good job,” Jack praised him.

Ioan smiled the baby version of Jack’s grin up at Jack, which was more than a bit unnerving. If Ioan ever learned to smile at other people, then that smile would possibly knock them flat. Jack hoped to teach him that someday.

And speaking of smiles…

“Brush your teeth, get your hearing aids,” Jack told him, standing up to usher him toward the bathroom.

Ioan dashed to the bathroom, his Daisy flying precariously behind him as he zoomed onward. Jack walked behind him, amused, now that he was awake.

Ioan hopped up onto his bathroom stepping stool and waited patiently as Jack rooted around for the right toothpaste. He found it, grabbed Ioan’s tiny toothbrush, and squirted some on before handing it down so that he could check out the hearing aids.

“Ony a _yiddo_ , Daddy! Dat’s too much!”

“Huh?” Jack looked down at the toothbrush that was being offered back to him. “Oh. I guess I did put too much on there.”

He scraped some of it off and handed it back down, then washed the excess toothpaste off his finger into the sink. Then he returned his attention back to his daily check-up on the hearing aids.

Ioan had troubles with “l” words. They came out with a “y” sound in place of the “l”, or he would simply leave the sound out altogether. Jack had _not_ bothered Martha about it. He _hadn’t_. He bothered Dr. Martin the audiologist, instead. She said that “l” was one of the harder sounds to make, along with “th,” which Ioan replaced with a “d” or an “f,” depending. Absolutely normal for his age. The good thing was, the hearing aids were working, because “s,” “f,” and “v” (the sounds he had the most trouble hearing) came out just fine. His “th” was the exception, but Dr. Martin was certain it was just a normal speech thing that would go away on its own. Her kid had talked like that, she had told Jack, except her daughter also butchered the letter “r”.

So, overall, Jack wasn’t worried. Not about that, anyway. He had plenty of other things to worry about. Like, for example, the Weevil population in Bute Park. They were never going to Bute Park. Never, ever, _ever_.

They would go to Roath Park.

“Okay, stand still,” Jack said.

Ioan, now learned in his morning routine, stood stock-still as Jack got his hearing aids in. Then Jack stepped back and let him adjust them to his needs.

“All good?” Jack asked.

“Yep!”

“Okay,” Jack said. “What’s next?”

“Breakfast!”

Jack picked Ioan up and set him on his hip. “What do you wanna eat?”

“Pizza!”

“No,” Jack said sternly. “What breakfast food do you want to eat?”

Ioan sighed, then thought about it the entire walk to the kitchen. Jack set him down in his booster seat and went to the cupboards, listing off possibilities of cereals, porridge, and toast.

“Strawberry jam!”

“On toast,” Jack said. “You’re not eating it right out of the jar.”

Ioan pouted, but he accepted the toast.

Jack ate his own toast slowly, watching Ioan gobble his down with enthusiasm. He was so _small_ , Jack realised. Tiny and fragile.

Sometimes that scared the shit out of Jack. What the hell was he doing with this kid, this beautiful baby boy, who looked so much like his father that it sometimes physically hurt Jack to think about? How could Jack deserve such a son as this? How could Jack take care of something so precious?

And sometimes, like right now, it made Jack feel strong. He made this child, with the help of the most wonderful man Jack had ever laid eyes on, and Jack would be damned if he let anything happen to the boy. Jack would take down a hundred Bute Park Weevils with his bare hands if it meant it would help Ioan in any way (and there could actually have been a hundred by this point, with nobody around to keep them in check).

Jack dropped his toast back on his plate and leant forward to press a long kiss to Ioan’s forehead.

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“Why you kissin’ me?”

Jack smiled into Ioan’s forehead, then sat back, gently dragging hand through Ioan’s soft curls.

“Because kisses mean ‘I love you,’” Jack said.

“Yike… yike when you kiss Aunt Marfa and Aunt Gwen and Aunt Tish on da cheek?”

“Yes, only forehead kisses are soooo much better,” Jack told him. “So, I only give them to you.”

“Why?” Ioan asked, tilting his head.

“Because they mean that I love you, and you are the most important person to me,” Jack said, moving the hand from Ioan’s hair to his cheek to wipe off some errant crumbs and jam.

Ioan pondered this for a moment, wide eyes blinking curiously as he thought about it. When he was satisfied with whatever his tiny little brain had come up with, he returned to munching happily on his toast. Oh, how Jack wished his life could be as simple and easy to understand as a three-year-old’s.

* * *

London… Jack disliked London immensely. So many awful things had happened here. Jack would gladly never visit the hellhole again.

But “Nanna” lived in London, and Ioan needed to spend the weekend with “Nanna,” so here they were.

Jack parked the car and looked back over his shoulder at Ioan. Ioan kicked his feet excitedly, grinning at Jack.

“Ready?” Jack asked him.

“Yep!”

Someday, Ioan would manage to pop that “p” just like Ianto used to. Just not today, evidently.

“Alrighty then,” Jack said, “Unbuckle.”

Jack got out of the car and went around to Ioan’s door, opening it so that Ioan could hop out onto the street. Jack ushered him up off of the road instantly, then went back to the boot to grab Ioan’s overnight things. He unzipped it to check if Daisy was in there. Ioan could survive the night sleeping in his clothes, or even in the buff, but god knows that kid would never fall asleep without his Daisy. Fortunately, both Daisy and Stella the Bat were tucked away in the bag, nice and safe.

Jack rezipped the bag and shouldered it, grabbing onto Ioan’s hand and walking him up to Francine’s house.

“What do we do when we get to someone’s house?” Jack asked Ioan.

Ioan thought about it for a moment, a little index finger on his chin in immitation of deep thought, then reached out and tapped his knuckles on the door.

“Little harder than that, kiddo,” Jack told him, hiding a grin.

This time, it actually made some noise as Ioan gently rapped on the door. Shaking his head, Jack reached out and gave it a good pound. Francine was there in an instant, and Jack suspected she had been waiting behind the door since they had pulled up in the car.

“Nannanannananna!”

“There’s my handsome boy!” Francine sang, reaching down.

Ioan launched himself into Francine’s awaiting arms. Francine lifted him up, making a face as she did.

“You’re getting big,” she groaned. She looked at Jack. “What have you been feeding him? Cement?”

“Nooo,” Ioan laughed. “Not s’ment! Strawberries and pancakes and jam and vegetabos and fruits and chickens and pizza and—”

“My goodness,” Francine said. “I hope not all at once.”

“No, Nanna!” Ioan cried. “We eats dem at different _times_!”

“Oh, right, of course. How foolish of me.”

She kissed his head and set him back down, and he raced further into her house. Jack passed the bag over to her.

“It’s got enough for three days,” Jack told her, nodding to the bag. “Just in case I—well, just in case.”

“You and Martha,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Always running around, doing UNIT’s wish. Do you not remember what they did to us?”

“It wasn’t them. It was—”

“The Master, I know.” She sighed. “Martha says the same. Doesn’t make me worry about you any less.”

“I’m older than you, Francine. You don’t have to mother me.”

“Technically, I was born well before you,” Francine said. “So, respect your elders.”

Jack smiled wryly. Always the sharp one, Francine Jones.

“And you could use some mothering, now and again,” she added. “And Ioan deserves a grandparent. God knows I’m never going to get another grandchild, so I’ll take any chances I’ve got to be one. Keisha and Ioan are all I’ve got.”

“Didn’t Tish say Martha was with some guy?”

Francine rolled her eyes. “Oh, _that_. Nobody knows anything about it. She’s keeping it very hush-hush. I don’t like it, let me tell you. Whoever it is, he cannot be good for her, not if he’s forcing her to keep quiet.”

“I think it might be the other way around,” Jack said.

She frowned. “I can’t see any reason why _Martha_ would want to hide things from us.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Daddy?”

Jack looked down at Ioan, peering out from behind Francine’s legs.

“What is it, kiddo?”

“Do you _have_ to yeave?” he asked, his lips turning down at the corners.

Jack crouched down and opened his arms. Ioan came forward to stand between them, and Jack enveloped him in a hug.

“I do,” Jack said. “You know that.”

“But I _miss_ you.”

Oh, Ioan. Jack stroked a hand through his hair, mindful of the hearing aids.

“I always come back, remember?” Jack kissed his forehead. “I will always come back for you.”

Well over four years ago, Jack had promised the same to Ianto as they laid in bed one night. Jack had never broken the promise to him, and he would never break it for Ianto’s son, either.

“I promise I will be back soon. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ioan replied, still downcast in tone and appearance.

“I love you.”

“Yove you.”

Jack kissed his head once more, then stood, eyeing Francine.

“I’d tell you to take good care of him, but I hardly think I need to.”

“No,” she agreed. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, Ioan?”

Ioan nodded.

“Eating healthy foods,” she continued. “Right?”

“Vegetabos,” Ioan said. “Yots and yots of vegetabos. Yike broccoyi.”

He made a disgusted face and Jack kept very hard to maintain a straight face.

“Eat everything Nanna tells you to,” Jack said. “Be good for her.”

“I _know_.”

“Okay. Bye, kiddo.”

Ioan and Francine waved goodbye as Jack walked out the door and back to the car. He slowly dug around his pocket for the keys, and took his time getting in and settled before starting the car. By then, Ioan had run to Francine’s big front window and was watching him, and Jack got to wave goodbye one last time before he left.

He did not check the mirror as he drove off, because if he looked back and saw Ioan’s disheartened face, he would have turned around and driven back and never would have left him again.

UNIT wouldn’t have liked that very much.

* * *

“Sing da Yoch song!”

“You’re _killing_ me.”

“Sing it!”

“I just did!”

“Again!”

“Aaaaagh…”

“Pyeeeeeeeeeees?”

“Alright, _fine_ ,” Jack sighed.

“Yay!” Ioan crowed.

And so, Jack launched into a highly comical rendition of Loch Lomond, because if he had to sing it like a goddamned opera singer _one more time_ , he would most likely explode.

“Okay, no more,” Jack told him once he had finished. “That’s a Scottish song. Know what that means?”

“From Scotyand!”

“Yep. And so we only sing it when we’re going to Scotland. Are we going to Scotland?”

“No.”

“No. So that means?”

“I dunno.”

“That means that you don’t make Daddy sing Scottish songs.”

Jack normally didn’t mind appeasing Ioan’s requests for songs, but when he had sung them fourteen times already (yes, he had counted), he didn’t feel like them much longer.

“I can put on the music you like, but I’m done singing today, okay?”

Ioan sighed. “Okay, _fine_.”

So, Jack pressed his vortex manipulator and got the car to start playing “Sosban Fach.” Ioan started swaying side to side in time with the music. Jack occasionally glanced up to watch him through the mirror. Cute.

When they were almost to the hospital, Jack turned off the music. He had learned the hard way that Ioan’s hearing aids couldn’t always distinguish his voice from the music, so to cut out any miscommunication, he had just opted to turn off music any time he needed to say something. It was as good a way as any to say “hey, you need to pay attention now.”

“Make sure you’re very nice to Aunt Gwen today,” Jack told Ioan. “Very, very nice.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s tired,” Jack said. “She just had another baby.”

“Can I see da baby?”

“If Aunt Gwen and Uncle Rhys allow it. Otherwise, you’ll just have to be quiet.”

Not that there was any point in telling Ioan to be quiet; Ioan was naturally quiet around other people, anyway. It was Anwen who was the obnoxious ringleader. Hopefully, being a big sister would teach her some volume control.

“Why did dey have anoder baby?” Ioan asked.

“Umm… they wanted to,” Jack said, because he didn’t know the actual reason.

“Why?”

“Dunno.”

“Oh.”

There was silence again as Jack pulled over into the car park.

“Do I get a baby?”

Jack stopped the car far too abruptly, and they both lurched uncomfortably forward.

“Hey!” Ioan said. “Too fast!”

Taking a few deep breaths in, Jack tried to calm himself. Then he slowly turned over to look Ioan in the eye.

“Do you want a sibling?”

Ioan crinkled his nose. “What’s a sibying?”

“Brother or sister. A new baby.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want one?” Jack asked.

He watched in slight fear as Ioan contemplated it.

“No,” Ioan eventually decided. “Dat’s too many peopo. I just yike you, Daddy.”

“I like you too, kiddo,” Jack said with a relieved smile. “But I wish you’d learn to like other people, too.”

“Yike Nanna and Daisy and Steyya da Bat?”

“Yes. Nanna, and Aunt Tish, and Aunt Gwen and Uncle Rhys, and Aunt Martha, and Anwen—”

“Oh, I yike dem too. But I yike you bester.”

“Better, kiddo, you like me _better_.”

“No, no, I yike you _more_ dan better.”

“Best, then. You like me best.”

“Yes. I yike you best!” Ioan declared. “And Daisy! And Steyya da Bat and Nanna! But you bestest!”

Best, Jack wanted to remind him again, but he didn’t. As long as he ranked above _Daisy_ , he didn’t care.

Gwen looked absolutely exhausted when they came in the room, but she seemed excited to see them nonetheless. She had Ioan come sit up in her bed with her, on the opposite side of Anwen. Rhys, who had been holding the new-born baby, passed it back to Gwen. She let Ioan gently touch the baby’s cheek. Ioan grinned up at Jack as the baby stirred. Jack gave him a thumbs-up to quietly let Ioan know that yes, he was doing a great job at being silent and gentle.

Anwen and Ioan both moved over to sit next to Jack when Rhys took the baby from Gwen to hand to him. He took the child gently, revelling in this moment. Oh, beautiful baby… Almost four years ago, this was Ioan in his arms, looking sweet and perfect. Jack shifted the baby into one arm and reached the other over to stroke a hand through Ioan’s hair.

“Have a name yet?” Jack asked Gwen.

“Can’t decide between Evan, Bran, or Geraint,” Gwen said.

“I still like Alun,” Rhys said.

“Of course you do,” she scoffed. “But we can’t bloody well have two ‘A’ names, now, can we?”

“Language,” Jack said.

At the same time, Rhys asked, “And why not?”

“It’s weird, that’s all.”

“I don’t think it’s weird.”

“I think,” Jack said, looking down at the baby boy, “Bran is just fine. Anwen and Bran.”

And, as Jack had hoped, Rhys decided immediately that Bran was _not_ the name they would use. Gwen, on the other hand, eventually came to the conclusion that her father, while she loved and missed him, hadn’t had the right name for her son.

So, Evan Cooper-Williams came into the world, a lot quieter than either of his parents or his sister.

Jack doubted he would stay that quiet.

* * *

One week after Ioan turned four, Jack started to become cautiously optimistic. Nothing had happened so far. No sickness, no concerning comments, nothing. Jack was beginning to believe it might stay that way.

They were celebrating a week and a day late (though they had also technically celebrated a few weeks early, along with Anwen) because Martha and Tish had been too busy to make it down on the actual date. Of course, Jack had gotten Ioan a cake and treated him like royalty on his actual birthday, but he had saved the presents until today.

“What are we gonna eat?” Ioan asked.

“What do you think?”

“Pizza!”

“Of course,” Jack said. “Pizza is for special days, and today is a special day.”

“Yay, pizza! Pizza pizza pizza!”

“You know,” Jack said, “your dad liked pizza, too.”

Ioan sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.

Jack frowned. “What?”

“You awways say dat!” Ioan whined. “Awways about ‘my dad.’”

“Well,” Jack said slowly, unsure where this was going, “he was pretty important.”

“Why do we gotta talk about him?” Ioan asked. “I don’t even know him!”

“That’s why we talk about him,” Jack said, a horrid feeling beginning to rise in his chest. “So that you can learn about him.”

“But dat’s boring! I don’t wanna talk about him! Wanna talk about fun tings, yike Daisy!”

And he presented Daisy to Jack with a smile on his face, like this was _okay_ , like everything was _alright_ , and Jack’s heart broke.

“I—you…” Jack swallowed and shook his head.

No. He couldn’t do this.

He turned from Ioan and left the kitchen, retreating to the sitting room, to where Ianto and Lisa smiled up at him from the mantel. Ianto’s face was swimming through Jack’s tears as Jack lifted the photo off the shelf and held it to his chest.

Why did it hurt so much, Jack wondered. Nearly five years had gone by, and yet, in that moment, it felt just as fresh as that first hour he spent alone, without Ianto by his side. It felt like someone had torn the stitches out, or sliced the same scar open again. It was just… _agony_.

He knew why, really. It was that whole “nobody dies until there’s nobody left to remember them” thing. That was the belief, on Boeshane. Jack’s dad wasn’t really gone until he was forgotten, his mother had always said. At the time, it had seemed stupid, but then, as Jack had gotten older, it had helped. But it also meant it had ripped Jack’s heart out when Ianto had been so certain that, in a thousand years’ time, Jack would forget him. That Jack would kill him _twice_ : once in reality, once in memory.

Jack had told Ianto then and there it wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let go of Ianto. And yet, here they were, with Ianto’s son barely knowing anything about him and not caring in the slightest, because what did it matter to Ioan? The man wasn’t here, in Ioan’s life; he only existed in the fragments Jack gave him. Why would Ioan give a damn?

So, Jack was killing Ianto all over again, by failing his memory and failing his son.

And it hurt. _So much._

“Daddy?”

“Not right now,” Jack said, his voice thick from the tears.

“But—”

“I said, _not right now_!”

And then he put a hand to his face because this… this was not what he had wanted for today. This was supposed to be a good day, where they celebrated Ioan and how amazing he was and how lucky they were to have him, but, instead, Jack was yelling at him and failing him and failing Ianto…

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

Jack pulled his face from his hand and looked down at Ioan, who was peering up at him with kind eyes, patting his leg gently.

“You don’t haveta be sad,” Ioan told him.

 _Yes, I do_ , Jack wanted to tell him. But how could he convey to a barely-four-year-old how much he had failed?

“Ioan,” Jack said. “I—"

“Daisy can make it better,” Ioan told him.

He handed his Daisy up to Jack, and Jack clutched her to his chest, next to the photo. For some reason, this just made him cry harder as Ioan wrapped himself around Jack’s leg, the only thing he could reach.

It took a few moments to calm himself down. He swiped a hand over his eyes, sniffed a bit, and glanced down to little Ioan, still folded around Jack’s leg. He looked… not terrified, exactly, but concerned, with a hint of wariness.

Jack cleared his throat. “Sorry. I… I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

Ioan shrugged.

“Sometimes, peopo are mad when dey’re sad,” he said.

Jack blinked down at him. “Who told you that?”

“Nanna,” Ioan said with another shrug.

“Well, Nanna is very smart,” Jack said, dumbfounded.

He took a deep breath in, then crouched to the floor, handing Daisy back to Ioan, then picking Ioan up one-handedly and carrying him to Ianto’s old sofa, where he sat them both down carefully. He took a seat next to Ioan, who instantly got up and crawled onto Jack’s lap. Jack waited until Ioan was comfortable before holding the picture out for Ioan to see.

“You know who this is?” Jack asked.

“Dat’s Miss Yisa,” Ioan said, smudging a tiny finger over the glass above Lisa’s face.

“And this is your dad,” Jack said, moving the finger over to Ianto’s handsome face.

“I know.”

“I know you know,” Jack said. “But I don’t think you know enough. This man… he’s… he’s, um…”

This wasn’t going to work, he realised. He needed a new tactic.

“You know how Aunt Gwen has Uncle Rhys?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why?”

“You said dey yove each ofer, even if dey don’t act yike it,” Ioan recited.

Jack cringed. “Well, yes, but let’s not say that again, shall we?”

Ioan shrugged, like it didn’t really matter to him. It probably shouldn’t. He was only four.

“What I mean to say is, Aunt Gwen and Uncle Rhys… they’re each other’s most important person.”

“Yike… yike I’m your most important person?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “Yes, you are. You are so important to me, Ioan Jones. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Das why I said it.”

“Good, because you are so very, very important to me.”

And Jack took a second to himself before he got too choked up to continue.

“Before you were born,” Jack said, “before you could be the most important person to me, there was someone else who was my most important person. Do you know who?”

“No.”

“His name was Ianto Jones,” Jack said, circling his thumb around Ianto’s face with reverence. “And I loved him. I didn’t tell him… but I did. I loved him so, so much.”

“And he’s my dad?”

Jack nodded. “Yes. Because I loved him so, so, _so_ much, he got the chance to become your dad. And then he died.”

With a momentary pause to recollect himself yet again, he looked down at Ioan.

“Do you know what that means?” Jack asked.

Ioan started out nodding, but it gradually turned into shaking his head.

“It means he’s gone,” Jack said.

“Yike when you go away and yeave me wif Nanna.”

“Yes, but a lot more,” Jack said. “He’s gone _forever_. I won’t get to see him again. You never get to meet him. And it makes me very sad, because I lost one of my most important people.”

He watched as Ioan reached out and took the framed photo from Jack’s grasp, holding it close to his body with his tiny hands and studying the image of Ianto carefully.

“Dat’s why you say aw dose tings about him?” Ioan asked after a long silence.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I miss him so much, and it makes me feel better to talk about him. And because he’s your dad, just as much as I am. He just never got the chance to meet you.”

Ioan nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Jack repeated, confused.

“You can say more tings about him,” Ioan said. “So dat you aren’t sad.”

Jack stared at him for a moment as his brain tried and failed multiple times to process that.

“You want me to tell you about him?” Jack asked stupidly, once he found the words.

Ioan nodded again.

“Okay,” Jack said, suddenly finding confidence. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“I dunno,” Ioan said with a shrug. “Yots of tings.”

Jack realised that probably wasn’t the best question to ask a four-year-old, so he rummaged around his brain for a good story to tell. He had so many of those, from back when Ioan was just a small babe. Jack didn’t know why he had stopped telling those stories. Another failing on his part, he supposed.

“What if I told you the story of how your dad saved a man called Eugene from choking on a glass ball?”

Quite fictitious all around, but it would paint Ianto in a good light and make for a good story for Ioan. Win-win.

“Yes!” Ioan cheered, because Ioan did love his stories.

And then Jack told him the highly fabricated story of “Eugene’s Shoes” until the guests arrived.

* * *

The nineteenth of August came around before Jack was ready. It always seemed to creep up on him with little warning, and this year was no different. Well, it was different, but not for that reason.

For the past five years, Jack had essentially forked Ioan off to either Francine, Tish, or Gwen, and then gone… out. Nowhere in particular, just _out_. The second year, when Ioan was one, Jack had gone out for a walk and then come back seventeen hours later with no memory of what happened. Which was fine. He didn’t want to remember it, anyway.

This year, though, Jack was making an attempt to get Ioan to know his father posthumously (oh, how he hated that word). He called Gwen to cancel the playdate with Anwen, and she said nothing about the date or the sudden urgent nature of his call. She was a good friend, Gwen.

Ioan looked so adorable in his blue raincoat and little duck wellies that Jack just spent a good long minute holding him in his arms. Today was a day for hugs. For Jack, at least. Ioan was a little confused why Daddy needed so many hugs, but he was still willing to give them.

“Okay,” Jack whispered after a moment. “Let’s go.”

Ioan tried to wriggle out of his arms, but Jack just stood up, Ioan still firmly in his grasp. He carried Ioan to the car silently, then gently set Ioan in his car seat and buckled him in.

The rain slowed to a halt as they drove, but the gloomy, grey clouds never parted. Ianto would’ve pretended to be fine with a dreary day like this on his birthday, mainly because he had always pretended that his birthday didn’t matter, but deep down, he would’ve been crushed. Ianto had loved the sunshine.

Jack parked the car and got out, blinking up at the sky, just to be sure there was no more rain. Only a few drops fell, blown down from the wind in the wet trees. Just to be safe, Jack flipped up the hood of Ioan’s raincoat. He worried for a moment about how the hood might dampen the sound to Ioan’s hearing aids, or that the fabric might rub against them and create loud and bothersome noises, but Ioan seemed to be doing just fine, dipping the toes of his ducky wellies into a large puddle beside the parked car. Besides, any side effects of the hood were preferable to drowned hearing aids, anyway.

Jack held out his hand and Ioan slipped his own tiny one into it, and they began to trudge across the sodden grass.

“Daddy?” Ioan asked.

“What?”

“Where are we?”

“We’re in a cemetery.”

They began weaving through gravestones as Jack tried to find Ianto’s.

“Why are we in a semy-tarry?” Ioan asked after a bit.

“We’re going to see your dad,” Jack replied, peering over the next few rows of headstones. There. That one, behind the one with the dead roses.

“My dad is dead,” Ioan said as they started walking to the grave.

Jack nearly stopped in his tracks, but managed to keep his wits about him. After all, Ioan was only parroting what Jack told him every time Ianto came up.

“Yes,” Jack said. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Why?” Ioan asked. “Do dead peopo yive in da semy-tarry?”

Oh, had Jack the spirit to laugh at that, he would have. Do dead people live in the cemetery? A joke worthy of the world’s greatest cynic. Yet he had no humour with him today, so all Jack could do was say “no” and keep on walking.

The gravestone was barren. Nobody had left flowers. Jack hadn’t even thought about it before he came. Would Ianto have wanted flowers, anyway?

Jack stared at the ground. Sometimes, he had a hard time fathoming graves. There was a body down there. Ianto’s body. He didn’t want to think about the decomposition of something so perfect and beautiful, but there was still that feeling… Well, it was like this: Jack had been buried once. And yet he was here. It wasn’t the concept of death he didn’t understand; he understood death perfectly well. It was impossible not to comprehend death when he had faced it cyclically for two thousand years. It was the entire _gone forever_ part that made no sense. Maybe, somehow, Rose had written out the rationalisation of permanence and impermanence when she made him immortal, because sometimes it still floored him how fleeting and ephemeral life was, even after all this time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ioan peering up at him. Jack shook himself mentally and stopped gawking down at the grass like a madman, turning his eyes back up to the solemn headstone. “Ianto Jones 1983-2009,” it read. Just that. No mention of who he was, no mention of what he meant to anyone. No mention of him saving the world countless times. Just a name and a date on a stone. How so very Ianto of it. Perhaps that was why nobody left flowers.

“I didn’t bring you anything,” blurted out of Jack’s lips before he could stop himself. He saw Ioan tilt his head at him out of the corner of his eye again, but he kept his gaze locked onto the gravestone. “But I brought your son. Ioan. He’s four now.”

Jack shifted on his feet. God, it felt… it felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. His chest ached. His lungs were numb and his heart was caving in. The wind blew through his hair and stole his breath from his mouth.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice sounding empty and pained to his own ears. “I don’t… Christ, Ianto. It _hurts_. I just wish…”

He just wished Ianto was _here_ , but he couldn’t say it, not when the wind was stealing his breath away. He took a moment, letting it blow across him until it died down.

“Anyway,” he said. “Happy thirty-first. I love you. Always will.”

He could feel Ioan’s eyes still on him, curious and confused. He wondered why it took him so long to bring Ioan to his father. No matter. They were here now.

“Daddy?”

Jack finally looked down at Ioan.

“You’re sad,” Ioan said.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, and, as if on cue, his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and swiped his free hand across his face, the other giving Ioan’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze. “I am.”

“Is it ‘cause he didn’t talk back?” Ioan asked.

Jack frowned down at him, bewildered. “What?”

“Da man. My dad.” Ioan pointed his hand to the gravestone. “He’s not saying anytin’ back!”

Understanding hit Jack like a two-tonne Hoix.

“Ioan, he can’t hear me,” Jack said.

“Why not?” Ioan asked, tilting his head. “Is he yike me?”

Jack crouched down in front of Ioan, cupping a hand to the boy’s face. Was Ianto like him? The long answer would be, yes, so much so, but the short answer, the answer to the question that Ioan was asking, was no. No, Ianto hadn’t had any problem hearing. No, that wasn’t why Ianto couldn’t hear him now.

How to explain death to a four-year-old? Ioan was a smart boy, but the complexities of the human existence were certain to go over his tiny little head. Oh, he got the whole _gone forever_ bit; he had taken to it quite well when Jack had explained that to him. But _death_? Jack supposed that made them two parts of a whole: the immortal man who understood death and the mortal child who understood forever.

Jack moved his hand from Ioan’s cheek to his forehead, brushing away the few curls that had plastered down to his forehead from the hood and the damp.

“Ioan—” Jack sighed.

“Daddy, dere’s someone coming,” Ioan cut over him, standing up on his tiptoes to peer over Jack’s shoulder.

Jack stood up quickly and turned, still keeping a tight grasp on Ioan’s hand and pulling him in close. Jack barely had time to mutter a swear in Galactic Standard before Rhiannon Davies was two feet from them.

Well. At least Ianto was getting _some_ flowers today.

“Hello,” Rhiannon said politely.

“Hello,” Jack said.

“Did you know my brother?” Rhiannon asked. She gestured her bouquet of roses (Ianto’s favourite shade of red, Jack noted) to Ianto’s grave.

“No,” Jack lied, gently pushing Ioan behind him. He hoped to get out of this with as minimal contact as possible. “Just passing by and had to stop for a second. Sorry we were in your way.”

“Not at all,” Rhiannon said.

She gave Jack a tight smile, which Jack returned with one equally as strained. Then her eyes travelled down to Ioan, who had poked his head out from behind Jack’s legs, to give him the same smile. Jack felt his own false smile slip from his face, and he stiffened the moment he saw in Rhiannon’s eyes the exact moment she recognised her brother in Ioan.

“Mrs. Davies—” Jack began, holding out a placating hand.

“Who are you?” she demanded, all traces of politeness reversed into something akin to hostility. “Who is that boy?”

And that, believe it or not, was how the three of them ended up in a coffee shop not too far from the cemetery, Jack and Rhiannon sipping coffees that paled in comparison to Ianto’s, while Ioan was nibbling on Jack’s scone and occasionally throwing Rhiannon suspicious looks. 

“How does Ianto have a son?” Rhiannon asked after an awkward ten minutes. “I mean… he can’t be yours.”

Jack was not about to explain the biology of certain individuals of the fifty-first century, so he simply said, “No.”

“So, did he knock some poor girl up?” she asked. “Is that it?”

“No,” Jack said again, this time a little defensively. Did she really think Ianto would have cheated?

“Well, I know it’s not some surrogate,” she scoffed. “Not with the way Ianto was talking to me about you. Said it was complicated between you two.”

Damn. There went Jack’s only plausible justification.

“It’s hard to explain,” Jack said.

Rhiannon raised a sceptical eyebrow that reminded Jack very much of her brother.

“Listen, Ianto never explained it to me,” Jack lied. “I don’t know.”

The eyebrow didn’t drop, but Rhiannon looked more willing to accept that answer.

“So, you’re raising him?” Rhiannon asked. “By yourself?”

“Yes,” Jack said easily, because that was a truth.

“You’d do that for my brother?”

Another easy truth. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jack returned. “I loved him.”

Jack wasn’t sure what Rhiannon was looking to find as she scanned his face, but she evidently found it, as she turned to Ioan to study him instead.

“He looks like Ianto.”

“Acts like him, too,” Jack agreed.

“Shy? Quiet?” she asked.

Jack gestured to Ioan, who was as quiet as a mouse as he plucked more bits off of Jack’s scone.

“That’ll change,” Rhiannon said. “He’ll be an absolute hellion in his teens, mark my words.”

Jack glanced down at his sweet little Ioan, then decided he doubted that very much. He’d like to think he wouldn’t drive Ioan up the walls like Ianto’s father had done to him.

“So,” Rhiannon said, addressing Ioan now. “How old are you?”

Ioan had long since stopped paying attention to the boring adult conversation, and he evidently didn’t pick Rhiannon’s question out of the din of the café. Jack reached a hand out and stroked Ioan’s curls. Ioan looked up from the scone with wide eyes. Jack smiled and brushed a thumb over a party of errant crumbs at the corner of Ioan’s lips.

“Mrs. Davies asked you a question,” he told Ioan gently.

Ioan blinked and hesitantly looked over to Rhiannon.

“Oh, it’s just Rhiannon, really,” she said, smiling down at Ioan. “Or Aunt Rhiannon. If you like.”

“Okay,” Ioan murmured, but Jack could tell he was a little confused.

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

Ioan held up four fingers.

“Four?”

Jack held back a grin as Ioan glanced up to Jack, as if looking for confirmation. Jack raised an eyebrow and Ioan looked back to Rhiannon and gave her a shy nod.

“He’s a bit small for four, isn’t he?” Rhiannon remarked, turning back to Jack.

“He’ll grow.”

“I suppose. Ianto grew like a weed, but I don’t think he was ever that small.”

Jack didn’t think he himself had been that small either, but it didn’t really matter, in the grand scheme of things. Ioan would grow to be the size Ioan grew to be. That was life.

“And that hair,” Rhiannon continued. “Much curlier than Ianto’s ever was.”

Jack very nearly slipped and told her that the hair in particular came from him, but he caught himself just in time. It wasn’t as if it would make a difference in ten minutes, anyway, but better safe than sorry. Ianto could break out of Retcon. Although Jack wasn’t sure if it was genetic, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.

“But what about the… you know…” Rhiannon made a gesture to her own ears in an approximation of Ioan’s hearing aids.

“Entirely his own.” Or so Jack guessed. He didn’t know the genetic factors behind it, and he didn’t particularly care.

“Bit of a sh—” Rhiannon cut off as she yawned, which was fortunate, because Jack didn’t like the tone she had. “Sorry. Don’t know what came over me. I feel really tired all of the sudden.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgement.

“Really… really tired,” Rhiannon said, mainly to herself.

“Perhaps you should go have a lie-down,” Jack said.

“I think—” She yawned again. “I think I might just…”

Jack and Ioan stayed where they were as Rhiannon excused herself. She had the time to leave Jack a phone number, which Jack crumpled in his fist as he pretended to slip it into his pocket. There would be no contacting her after this. She wouldn’t remember she met them, anyway.

“Do you need help with that?” Jack asked Ioan about his own damn scone when Rhiannon had gone.

Ioan nodded, and they split the rest of the scone between them. Jack ate his share in silence and tried not to laugh at the irony. Ianto had disliked scones. Verbally. Toshiko had stopped bringing them to the Hub after Ianto had started complaining about the crumbs and the ants he had to sweep up. Which was sort of a shame, really, because Toshiko had always brought some of her homemade jam with the scones, and Jack used to swipe a spoonful when she wasn’t looking. Or when she was pretending that she wasn’t looking, at least.

When they were finished, Jack zipped Ioan’s raincoat up again. The rain had returned to its prior downpour while they were finishing the scone, so Jack flipped the hood over Ioan’s head. Ioan grinned up at him as Jack made a dramatic scene of cleaning off Ioan’s face.

“You have crumbs all over you!” Jack scolded.

Ioan giggled. “Not _aaaaaw_ over!”

“Right from your nose to your toes!”

“Noooo! Just my mouf!” Ioan patted his cheeks. “See?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Jack said, nodding as he brushed away the last of the crumbs. “Just your mouth.”

“Yep!” Ioan still couldn’t pop that “p” like his father used to. Someday, perhaps.

Jack mused on his earlier sprit. Ioan was one hell of a way to lift a mood. Jack pressed a kiss to Ioan’s forehead of curls as a silent “thank you” to the world for his son, before taking his hand and walking out into the rain.

Rhiannon’s car was still in the parking lot. Jack suspected she’d be there for another… oh, forty minutes? Or somewhere thereabouts. The only Retcon he had left was that rubbish two-hour stuff that had been in the boot of the SUV, and that crap only knocked people out for an hour at most.

Ioan let Jack help him into his car seat but refused to let Jack help him do anything else. “No, I wanna bucko! Yet me bucko!”

Jack stepped back, hands raised, as Ioan attempted to buckle himself in. Stubborn, just like Ianto. Jack eventually had to reach in and help him anyway, and Ioan pouted. Jack kissed his head again in apology, then quickly got in the car himself to escape the rain.

He drove slowly behind Rhiannon’s car, just to make sure she was alright in there. When he was satisfied that she was, he drove off, figuring he’d think of the next destination while they went.

“Daddy?” Ioan asked after a short while.

“What, kiddo?”

“Who was dat yady?”

“She… knew your dad.”

“Oh.”

Ioan was quiet for another short stretch. In the silence, Jack decided that they would go to the library. Ianto had always been very fond of libraries and had once mentioned to Jack that he’d wanted to be a librarian as a child. Plus, if the weather cleared up, it was only a short drive down to the Quay.

Ioan’s voice cut over Jack’s thoughts. “Are we gonna see her again?”

Jack looked up at the mirror, catching Ioan’s inquisitive eyes. Were Ioan any older, perhaps he would comprehend the gravity of the situation. But he was so… so little and so innocent. Couldn’t fathom death and didn’t understand life quite yet, either. Couldn’t understand why his dad was gone and why his aunt couldn’t know why he was alive.

“No.”

* * *

“Look!”

“What?”

“It’s a big duck!”

Ioan put his hands on his hips. “That’s not a _duck_. That’s a _goose_.”

“No,” Tish said, and Jack could see a smile lifting at the corner of her lips. “That has to be a duck.”

“Ducks are yiddo!” Ioan explained in exasperation. “Gooses are big!”

“Geese, Ioan,” Jack told him.

Ioan scowled at him. “That’s not a geese, it’s a goose!”

Tish snorted.

“Come on, now,” Francine said, frowning at Jack and Tish. “Be nice.”

“Yes, mum,” Jack muttered under his breath.

Francine shot him a withering glare, then stooped down to hoist Ioan into her arms. “Do you know what kind of goose it is?”

“It’s just a goose!” Ioan cried. “Why’s nobody gettin’ that!”

“Boy, we’re feisty today,” Tish said to Jack.

“He’s not too thrilled about meeting someone new,” Jack explained, just as Francine started telling Ioan why he was not allowed to yell at his Nanna.

“Him and Mum both,” Tish said. “She’s convinced that the man’s a psychopath.”

“Well, why else would she keep him quiet for so long?” Francine said, breaking from her scolding of a now pouting Ioan.

“Um, maybe because the last time she tried to get involved with someone, you went over the top and got us locked up in the Valiant for year?”

“Okay,” Jack said, cutting through the hostile silence that followed. He reached out and took Ioan from Francine’s arms, pulling him out from Francine and Tish’s line of fire. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, here. Where’s Leo? I thought you said he was coming.”

Jack wasn’t too keen on Leo, as Leo wasn’t all that keen on him, either (Tish suspected it was the whole issue with “The Year That Never Was,” because Leo still didn’t believe them), but Ioan had the _mightiest_ case of hero-worship when it came to his “cousin” Keisha. Every time they hung out at one of the Jones residences, Ioan would always come home awestruck. Keisha was only about three years older, but she was the coolest person on the entire goddam planet in Ioan’s mind.

“He’s at Annalise’s parent’s house,” Francine said. “He’s met the man already.”

“And he’s told me nothing,” Tish added. “Not a single thing. Martha made him swear on it, or whatever.”

Francine hmphed quietly, folding her arms and staring over the waters of Victoria Park’s East Fishing Lake. Jack didn’t like this park; there was a café called The Hub and that sort of pissed him off, but it was where Martha had asked them to meet. At least Ioan was getting a kick out of the geese and the fine spring morning. Or he had been, before he was scolded. Now he was sulking in Jack’s arms.

“The plural for goose is geese,” Jack told him. “So, when there is more than one goose, you say geese.”

Ioan just sighed.

Jack, who was probably the worst parent in the history of parenting, could not stand Ioan being huffy at him, so he rested his forehead in Ioan’s curly hair, holding Ioan even tighter in his embrace.

“I love you, kiddo,” Jack told him.

“I know,” Ioan said dismissively.

Tish burst out laughing. Jack glowered at her, but it only served to spur her on.

“Don’t be sassy,” Francine chided Ioan, because she was much better at parenting than Jack.

“Oi! You lot!”

Jack turned at the sound of Martha’s voice, and found her just a little way up the path, walking towards the group and waving a hand at them. By her side was none other than Mickey Smith. Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or not, and it probably showed on his face, judging by the way Tish was staring at him.

“Do you know him?” she asked quietly

“If your mother wanted a normal relationship for Martha,” he mumbled back, “she’s going to be very disappointed.”

“Hello,” Martha said cheerfully as she came up to the group.

She hugged Tish, kissed Francine and Jack’s cheeks, and ruffled Ioan’s hair, all the while Jack was staring at Mickey, one eyebrow raised. Mickey looked quite uncomfortable. Though his discomfort was mild in comparison to Ioan’s, who was holding onto Jack with a death grip, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder.

“Hello,” Francine said, because she was the politest of the bunch. “I’m Francine Jones. And you are?”

“Mickey Smith,” said Mickey, shaking her offered hand. “You must be Tish?”

“Yes,” Tish said, taking her own turn to shake his hand.

Mickey looked over at Jack. “I’m not introducing myself to you.”

“Mickey Moose,” Jack said, grinning.

“Captain Cheesecake,” Mickey countered, though it was with less bluster than usual as the Jones women watched him.

“Oh, how do you know each other?” Francine asked, looking delighted.

“Let’s just say, we all know someone in common,” Jack said.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Tish sighed, and Francine looked incensed.

“Um. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Mickey said, his voice raising in pitch. “I’ve heard a lot about you all.”

“Can’t say the same about you,” Francine said, rather inimically.

“Mum!” Martha said. “Be nice.”

Jack chuckled to himself and muttered, “yes, mum” again under his breath. Francine’s glare was absolutely devastating and should have killed him on the spot. Martha, on the other hand, frowned confusedly at him.

“So, Mickey,” Jack said, ignoring them both. “How’d you land Martha?”

“Um,” Mickey said. “I was just… helping her out with… stuff and then… we dated.” His voice cracked.

“Huh,” Jack replied, grinning widely at him.

Now Jack had Francine and Martha glaring at him.

“Anyway,” Martha said. “Mickey, this is my family. And Jack. Family and Jack, this is Mickey.”

“Wait, _Ioan’s_ family, but I’m not?” Jack asked.

“Behave and you might be.”

Mickey laughed, but then covered it with a cough as four glares hit him.

“Speaking of Ioan,” Martha said, “does he want to meet Mickey?”

“You’re going to have to pry him off me,” Jack said as little fingernails dug into his flesh. “He’s extra shy today.”

“That makes two of us,” Mickey said under his breath.

“See?” Jack said to Ioan. “Mickey Moose is shy, too.”

That got Ioan to look up and over at Mickey.

“You’re not a moose,” he said bluntly.

“No,” Mickey said.

“Then your name shouldn’t be Moose.”

“It’s not,” Mickey said quickly.

“Then why’re you cawwed that?”

Mickey blinked. “Um. Ask your dad.”

Jack was beginning to hope that Martha didn’t want kids in her future. Despite the teasing, Jack did hold a certain level of respect for Mickey, but boy, was Mickey bad at interacting with kids.

He bent down and set Ioan on the ground. Ioan tried to cling to him, but Jack managed to free himself from the kid’s clutches.

“He calls me Captain Cheesecake,” Jack said, taking Ioan’s hand instead. “That’s why.”

Ioan wrinkled his nose. “That’s stupid.”

“Ioan,” Jack admonished. “Say nice words.”

“Someone’s been working on saying ‘th,’” Martha said, smiling down at Ioan.

“Daddy _made_ me,” Ioan sighed with the drama of a goddamn primadonna.

Martha raised an eyebrow at Jack.

“Hey!” Jack said, feeling the need to defend himself. “He enjoyed it at the time!”

They had gotten stuck in traffic coming home from Francine’s one day, and Jack had worked out a game for them to play. Alright, sure, Jack didn’t let them finish playing the game until Ioan could say “that thing over there,” but that was only because Ioan would’ve been bouncing off the walls and driving him mad otherwise.

Now they just needed to work on that ‘l’ of his…

“So, how long have the two of you been dating, anyway?” Tish asked.

“Two years,” Mickey said.

 _“Two years?”_ Francine squawked. “You dated for _two years_ and you never told us?”

Mickey started to shrink behind Martha, much like Ioan did behind Jack when he was afraid of scary new people, but Martha, being Martha, stood her ground.

“Mickey didn’t want to be on UNIT’s radar,” she said. At everyone’s sceptical looks, she cried, “It’s a reasonable excuse! He’s done a lot to piss them off, and if I’d been publicly dating him, things would be bad for us both.”

“Then why are you telling us now?” Francine asked. Her eyes went wide. “Oh my god. You’re pregnant!”

Martha stared at her. “What? No!”

“Then what?” Francine demanded.

“I’m quitting UNIT!” Martha exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, you guys!”

“Aunt Martha keeps sayin’ bad words,” Ioan muttered.

Jack grinned and squeezed Ioan’s hand gently. This was probably the best disaster Jack had ever been a part of.

* * *

Jack whistled to himself as he stuffed things into Ioan’s bag. Swim trunks, goggles, towel… shit. Did they need anything else? He couldn’t fathom what Ioan would need that wasn’t already in the bag, but what if there was something else that the instructor required? What if Ioan was the only kid who showed up without… a swim cap, or something?

He sighed. They’d just have to wait and see, he supposed. They could always bring the right things next time.

“Ioan?” Jack called.

When Ioan didn’t respond, Jack picked up the bag and went out looking for him. He found Ioan sitting in front of the TV, watching his cartoons. Jack stepped in front and turned the TV off. Ioan blinked up at Jack.

“You ready to go?” Jack asked.

“Don’t have my shoes,” Ioan said.

“Well, go get them, then,” Jack said.

Ioan hopped to his feet and raced off to find his shoes, while Jack picked up Ioan’s Daisy and Stella the Bat from the floor. Hm. They both needed a wash.

“Got them!” Ioan shouted, speeding back in. He pointed down at his feet. “See!”

“Okay, now we need to take your hearing aids out,” Jack said.

“But why?” Ioan said as Jack knelt down and started pulling out the right one.

“Because we can’t get them wet, remember?”

“Yeah, but how come we gotta do it _now_?” Ioan asked.

“I don’t want to lose them at the pool,” Jack explained, turning the hearing aid off and reaching for the second one. “And I don’t want them to get crushed in your bag. So, we’re just going to leave them here, okay?”

Ioan nodded.

“But that means you have to pay extra close attention,” Jack warned him.

“I know,” Ioan said.

“Good.”

Jack kissed his head and stood to go put the hearing aids away in the bathroom. Then he checked the time and sprinted back, all but barrelling over Ioan in his haste to swoop him up and carry him to the car.

Ioan’s obsession with swimming had started when he was little. Jack couldn’t really remember when exactly it began; Jack had been taking him swimming since he was strong enough to sit up, because that’s what Jack’s father had done with him, albiet more frequently, as Jack had lived on a warm beach. But a few weeks after Ioan’s famous “byoobeeyee” incident, Ioan’s next biggest breakthrough was to grab onto Jack’s leg and loudly announce “swimmen.” He then had not relented until Jack took him swimming. Did Jack drive a whole two hours to go to Barafundle Bay because he’d read online that it was the best beach in Wales? Yes. Would he do that again? Yes. It was fun. Ioan had enjoyed himself immensely. Also, Jack was a spineless fool who’d do literally anything his son demanded of him ( _except_ driving into the river; he’d never do that no matter how many times Ioan sang out for him to do so).

As Jack helped Ioan into his swim trunks, he wondered if he should take Ioan back to Barafundle Bay. His last few months before school started should be spent having fun. God knows Ioan won’t live this carefree, easy life ever again, not in this capitalistic hellhole of a society.

Jack flung the towel over his shoulder and stuffed the clothes in the bag and flung that over the other shoulder, then grabbed Ioan’s hand and took him to the poolside.

“Hi,” said a cheery blonde with a face that smiled too much, even to Jack’s standards. “I’m Cerys. Are you Ioan?”

Ioan made a little squinty face, the one that he made when he wasn’t quite hearing someone very well. See, this was why there needed to be waterproof hearing aids. But he nodded, so Jack hoped it’d be okay.

“You can wait with the other kids by the edge of the pool,” Cerys said to Ioan.

Ioan looked up at Jack, then to the pool, then back up at Jack.

“It’s okay,” Jack told him. “You can go.”

He gave Ioan’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then let go so that Ioan could shuffle anxiously to the ledge of the pool and peer into the water.

“He’s going to be scared until he gets in,” Jack told Cerys. “Then he’ll be fine.”

“You’re the parent who called ahead to say he was hard of hearing, right?” Cerys asked.

Jack could see the apprehension in her face. “Yeah. Don’t shout at him—that won’t help. Just make sure you’re close to him when you’re talking. And that he’s looking at you.” He folded his arms and watched Ioan stand nervously by the poolside. “He’ll be good.”

“Alright,” Cerys said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Jack wasn’t going to lie, the cutest goddamn thing he’d ever seen was a baby trufflofant, but that was only because they gave off a powerful secretion that literally _made_ people think that. But a very close second was the image of little Ioan in a floatie, paddling happily in the waters, grinning his cute face off. Jack took his mobile out and snapped a picture, because there was no way Gwen or Francine would forgive him if he didn’t.

Sometimes, Jack was so happy that he wanted to burst.

And then after he was happy for longer than five seconds, he started self-destructing, because he was Captain Jack Harkness, and he didn’t deserve a goddamn second of it.

He used to be a legend on the streets of Cardiff. Captain Harkness with his coat and his gun, his little team trailing behind. And life was supposed to be that way. He was _supposed_ to serve his time, to spend the rest of eternity chained to his post, doing what needed to be done to save the world. Nobody else could have done it, because nobody else had fallen so low as he had. Now, he was standing by a _pool_ in that same damn coat, watching his _son_ joyfully swim around.

God. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve that child, that beautiful baby boy. Ianto’s son. No, he deserved to live in misery.

But misery was so hard to come by when Ioan smiled at him _just like that._

Jack smiled back and gave him a thumbs up.

* * *

Jack parked the car and put his hands to his face.

Shit.

Shit, shit, _shit_.

He didn’t know how long he sat in the car like that, just trying not to scream or cry, or something equally ineloquent to do in a car. He took deep breaths in and out, reverting himself back to a normal rhythm.

Thank god Ioan was out today. He needed a long nap. A really, really long nap.

It was by chance that he turned on his mobile before he left the car. He was glad he did, because it meant he could listen to the message, turn the car back on, and speed out of his driveway and down the street.

_“Hey, it’s Gwen. ‘Course you’d know that. Look, um… it’s nothing to worry you about, I just thought I’d call. I know you said you didn’t know when you’d be back, but… well, whenever you do, I’d just like you to know that… don’t panic—really, Jack, don’t panic—but Ioan’s having a bit of a rough time. He’s been acting a bit off this morning. I dunno if it’s just ‘cause it’s loud in here or, or something, but… look. Don’t rush in, I’m sure it’s fine, I just thought I’d let you know. Alright. Bye.”_

Thank god Gwen only lived two streets away.

He knocked on the door with a light, yet firm, rap, though he very much felt like breaking the door down. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that Gwen would very much kick his ass if he did. Actually, she looked ready to kick his ass anyway.

“Bloody hell,” she groaned when she saw it was him. “I told you _not_ to come dashing in.”

“What’s wrong with Ioan?” he asked.

She shrugged and sighed. “He was fine yesterday, and the day before, when you dropped him off, but this morning… I dunno. I just noticed it a while after the other kids arrived.”

“But what’s _wrong_ with him?”

“I dunno,” she stated. “It’s just… he’s been sitting on his own and looking… I dunno, all glum and sad-looking. He hasn’t said a thing to me about it, so I don’t think it’s that bad, but he’s still… out of sorts, I guess.”

“Right. Let me in.”

“Oh,” she said as he shoved past her.

There were children everywhere in Gwen’s house. He’d forgotten that Anwen was having a party with all her little mates from daycare. God, there were a lot of them.

“Uncle Jack!” Anwen yelled, throwing herself at Jack.

“Hi, darling!” he said, swooping her up. “How’s the party?”

“Good. We had cake!”

“I can tell,” Jack said as three little boys ran screaming past.

“It was chocolate,” Anwen told him. “With blue and pink frosting.”

“I bet it was delicious,” he said, plopping a kiss on her temple. “Where’s Ioan?”

“He’s in my room, ‘cause he’s not feeling good.”

Worry filled his chest. If Anwen knew Ioan wasn’t well, then Ioan must be miserable. Jack set Anwen back down and she ran off to join her friends, while Jack pushed through crowds of tiny, screaming children.

Glum was a very good word to describe how Ioan looked. He looked absolutely despondent, hunched over on Anwen’s bed with his arms folded over his chest and his face warped into Ianto’s sad little pout. The utter adorableness of it broke Jack’s heart until he remembered, right, he was worried out of his goddamn mind.

“Ioan?” Jack asked, dropping into a crouch in front of him. “Ioan, kiddo, what’s wrong?”

Ioan’s lip began to wobble. “It’s loud.”

“I know.”

“My head hurts,” he whimpered.

“I bet,” Jack said, reaching a hand out to stroke it through Ioan’s curls.

“Wanna go home.”

“We can go home,” Jack said. “Where are your things?”

Ioan pointed to the corner of Anwen’s room, where his overnight bag was sitting, clothes and stuff thrown all over it. Jack picked the clothes up and shoved them unceremoniously into the bag. He stuffed Ioan’s Daisy under his armpit and zipped up the bag, then went over to grab Ioan’s hand. Ioan took his Daisy from Jack, and then they were set to go.

“Leaving?” Gwen asked.

Jack looked up. He hadn’t noticed she was at the door.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s been a little much for him today.”

“I figured,” she said.

She bent down and kissed Ioan’s head.

“Go home and get some rest, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ll tell Anwen you’ve gone.”

“Okay,” Ioan said, rather pathetically. Oh, that didn’t just tug on Jack’s heartstrings, that yanked them so hard they nearly snapped.

Gwen kissed Jack’s cheek, and then they ducked out of the noisy house as quickly as possible. Jack walked Ioan to his side of the car, then helped him get in and buckled.

“Daddy,” Ioan said, just as Jack was about to shut the car door.

Jack pulled the door back open. “What’s up?”

“My chest hurts, too.”

Jack frowned. “Your chest hurts?”

“Yeah…”

Now, _that_ worried Jack. His chest hurt? That could mean so many things. He was too young for a heart attack, right? How young was too young for a heart attack? What about hypertension? Or could he have pneumonia again? Jack didn’t want to go through that experience a second time.

“How does it hurt?”

“Just _hurts_ ,” Ioan sobbed, and then started to cry.

“Oh, Ioan,” Jack sighed sympathetically, placing a hand on Ioan’s cheek and rubbing his thumb gently across it, trying desperately to soothe the boy.

Jack kept the hand on Ioan’s cheek as he reached into his coat pocket to grab his mobile. He took his eyes off Ioan for only a second as he found the right number.

Three rings went by before a very annoyed voice picked up.

“Three days, Jack,” Martha snapped. “July ninth is in three days. You’re so predictable.”

“Look, I know that this is—”

“Take him to a paediatrician,” she said.

“He said his chest hurts,” Jack said.

There was a slight pause. “Alright, then. Take him to the closest Accident and Emergency.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she interrupted. “I’m in _London_. I can’t do anything. If it’s as bad as you think, then he needs attention and treatment now, and I cannot give that to you.”

“I—okay.”

“Give him my love, and I hope to _god_ he’s okay.”

Jack ended the call, comforted Ioan for a few more seconds, then hopped in the car and broke several laws to get to an A&E in record time.

Asthma also caused chest pain, Jack learned after a rather exasperated doctor calmed him down. Jack was appeased for a moment, and then just angry, because did the universe really have to do that to his kid? Sure, take it out on Jack, but _Ioan_? The universe could fuck right off. Ioan deserved better than this. _Asthma_. Christ.

But Jack couldn’t rage against the world when Ioan needed him to be a strong and calm father, so Jack just held Ioan’s hand and Ioan’s Daisy and listened to the doctor ask Ioan some questions. Yes, it was hard to breathe sometimes. Yes, he coughed a lot. Yes, it had happened during swimming.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack asked Ioan after.

“’Cause,” Ioan said, and that was about all he was willing to say.

Jack didn’t pry any more, not when Ioan was looking that miserable.

The doctor taught Jack and Ioan both how to use an inhaler and prescribed one for Ioan. He then told Jack about possible triggers for an attack: the cold, dust, smoke, pungent smells, exercise. He also explained that Ioan would sometimes have night-time symptoms. Ioan started sniffling again at this part, so Jack handed him his Daisy and hoisted him onto his lap, holding Ioan close as the doctor then explained flares.

“Does your head still hurt?” Jack asked as he carried Ioan out to the car.

Ioan nodded into Jack’s shoulder.

“Okay. We can go home and do something about that,” Jack said.

He set Ioan in the car and drove home, deciding that they could wait until tomorrow to get the inhaler from the chemist’s shop.

Jack took care of Ioan’s headache, then took him out to the sitting room and pulled out a film box.

“What’s that?” Ioan asked. Poor kid sounded absolutely spent.

“It’s a movie,” Jack said. “I was going to wait until your birthday to show it to you, but we can watch it now, because you’re feeling bad.”

Ioan perked up at that, just a little. “What is it?”

“James Bond.”

* * *

Jack had been dreading the start of Ioan’s school life. For a lot of reasons.

First of all, what if Ioan had a rough time? What if there were bullies? Big, mean kids who mocked Ioan for his hearing aids? Or for having an inhaler? Or for being small? Or for literally any other reason?

And what about academics? What if Ioan didn’t understand anything? What if it all went over his head? What if he couldn’t hear the teacher and just gave up?

Okay, Jack had prepared for that one. He’d had a lengthy chat with Dr. Martin about strategies, and then had taken those and called Ioan’s school and teacher. Ms. “Call me Anna” Morgan had agreed to try out a day of just normal teaching before deciding if Ioan needed additional help, like an FM system. But she’d happily moved Ioan to the front of the room.

And Jack supposed Ioan would be okay against bullies. Anwen was in his class, so at least Ioan would have a friend, and a feisty one at that. Jack was pretty sure Anwen was under special instructions from Gwen to kick anyone’s butt if they were mean to Anwen or Ioan. Jack had no doubt Anwen would follow through on those instructions if need be. Which was a good thing, because while Jack could beat up Weevils and Hoixes and homicidal Time Lords, he was fairly certain he was not allowed to beat up small children, no matter how mean they were.

But the one thing Jack was definitely uncertain about was… what the _hell_ was he going to do now? His entire day used to be spent with Ioan, with his baby boy, but now Ioan was grown up and leaving him for hours on end, and Jack had no idea what he was going to do with the free time. Work? No. When UNIT said they had two-hour missions for him, they generally ended up being two _days_.

Jack sighed as the alarm went off. He wasn’t ready to let go of his baby yet. Couldn’t he have a few more months? Or years? Or decades?

With another hefty sigh, he rolled over and pulled Ioan into a tight hug.

“Time to wake up,” he said, plopping a kiss into the messy curls.

“Nooo,” Ioan groaned.

“You’ve gotta go to school!”

“Don’ wanna go t’ school,” Ioan mumbled, turning over and burrowing into Jack’s arms as he tried to fall asleep again.

“Yes, you do,” Jack said. “You were all excited about it yesterday.”

“That was _yesterday_. Now I don’t _wanna_. Wanna stay home with _you_.”

“Aw, kiddo,” Jack said, kissing Ioan’s head again. “You know you can’t.”

Ioan groaned some more, but Jack forced him to get up anyway. He pouted his way through putting on his hearing aids, brushing his teeth, and eating his breakfast. Once he had some food in him, though, he was up and ready to go.

Evidently, _Ioan’s_ only worry about school was that his Daisy was not allowed to come with him. Jack wished he had Ioan’s otherwise indifferent attitude to the whole event. Since he was a kind, benevolent (pushover) father, he allowed Ioan to ride with his Daisy all the way to school, so long as Daisy was a quiet duck. And Daisy was the perfect example of a quiet duck all the way to school, so Jack agreed that she was allowed to ride the next day, too.

When Jack parked the car, Ioan let out a big sigh and snuggled his Daisy close for a second, then set her down gently on the seat next to him and unbuckled himself.

“Remember to wait with your teacher afterschool,” Jack told him.

“I know.”

“Because we have a meeting with her.”

“I _know_.”

“So you have to—”

“I know!”

“Ioan!” Jack scolded.

Ioan’s head dropped to his chest and he pouted.

“I don’t wanna go,” he said.

Jack sighed. “You’ll like it once you get there.” Ioan always did.

“I won’t.”

“Yes, you will,” Jack said.

“I’ll miss you,” Ioan said.

“And I’ll miss you, kiddo,” Jack said. “But it’s only a few hours. I’ll be around to get you before you know it.”

Ioan pouted a little and Jack leaned back through the seats to kiss his head.

“I love you,” Jack said.

“Love you,” Ioan muttered back.

“I’ll see you later. Have a good day.”

Ioan was still pouting when he hopped out of the car. Jack made sure Ioan made it all the way inside the school before driving off. He felt disgustingly lonely as he pulled out onto the street and started making his way home.

Jack really didn’t know what to do with himself for the first hour, so he cleaned the bathroom. And then the kitchen. And then the bedroom. And then Ioan’s “bedroom.” Then he ran out of places to clean. So, he called Gwen.

“Ioan’s fine,” Gwen said before he could even get a word out.

“I know he is,” Jack said.

“Oh, so you’re not calling me in a panic?”

“No…”

“Uh huh,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “Then is this a social call?”

“I… suppose.”

“Bullshit. You don’t do social calls. This is about your separation anxiety.”

“ _What_?” Jack demanded.

“Ioan will be fine, you will be fine, the world isn’t going to come to an end.”

“I don’t have separation anxiety!”

“You do too. Look. Go read a book. Watch some telly. Be glad you don’t have a screaming baby on your hands.”

As if on cue, Evan started crying on the other end of the line. Gwen gave a hefty sigh in response. Jack quietly decided he’d rather take a screaming baby over the silence of his house.

“It’ll all be fine,” Gwen told him before ending the call.

Jack stared at his mobile for a moment.

The time managed to pass, though Jack was not sure how. All he knew was that the moment his alarm went off, he was speeding down the roads to Ioan’s school and practically bowling over children as he tried to get to Ioan’s classroom.

Ioan was seated on the other side of Ms. Morgan’s desk, slumped over and looking exhausted.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Harkness!” Ms. Morgan said cheerily. How she could be that happy after spending that many hours with rambunctious children, Jack would never understand.

“It’s Captain, actually,” Jack said, taking the seat beside Ioan.

Ioan immediately got up from his own chair and climbed up onto Jack’s lap, sinking against him as though he was made of jelly.

“Sorry, _Captain_ Harkness,” Ms. Morgan corrected, still smiling like a goddamn painted doll.

“How was it?” Jack asked, refusing to let his anxiety show through.

“Oh, he was great!” she exclaimed. “Got through everything with no real problems at all, didn’t we, Ioan?”

Ioan didn’t acknowledge her, merely burrowing deeper into Jack’s chest.

“He’s a bit tired, I expect,” she went on, “but I don’t think there’s any need for extra help. He’s a good student.”

“He wasn’t… bullied, or anything, right?” Jack asked.

“Not at all!” Ms. Morgan smiled at Ioan. “He got along just fine with the other children. Many were very jealous that Ioan had cool blue hearing aids.”

Jack wasn’t so sure of what to make of that, but he was immensely grateful that Ioan wasn’t being bullied.

“Did he make any friends?”

Ms. Morgan started laughing. Jack stared at her until she regained control of herself.

“I am to take it that Miss Anwen Williams knows Ioan, yes?” she asked.

“Yes. They’re practically cousins.”

“Well,” she said. “There was no letting Ioan around the other kids. Miss Williams wanted him all to herself.”

“Not surprising,” he said.

“Like glue, those two were,” she said. “It was very sweet. Funny, but sweet.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Jack said. “But just to be clear—no need for an FM system?”

She shook her head. “Not at the moment. If that ever changes, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s good,” Jack said. “Alright. I’d best get him home.”

“You do that,” Ms. Morgan said. She smiled at Ioan again. “Don’t forget your pack and your picture before you go!”

“You made a picture?” Jack asked Ioan quietly as they grabbed his things.

Ioan waved a sheet of printer paper at Jack, who took it and looked at it. Two stick figures compromised of blue crayon stood next to each other, each wearing wobbling smiley faces and containing a few too many fingers, neither wearing a stitch of clothing between them. But Jack could see in Ioan’s squiggly print “Daddy and me,” so it was _obviously_ the best picture created in the history of all art.

“I love it,” Jack said earnestly. “And I love you.”

Ioan accepted the kiss Jack gave him, then practically shoved his hand into Jack’s and started walking out the door. Jack took the hint, and they left.

Halfway along the drive home, Ioan fell asleep in his car seat. Jack took every opportunity he could to look through the mirror back at his sleeping son, smiling to himself the rest of the way home.

He parked the car and carried Ioan carefully inside, Ioan’s bag slung over his shoulder and the picture clasped gently between two fingers. He set the bag and picture down at the table, then carried Ioan to the living room, where he laid down on the sofa, Ioan still in his grasp.

It wasn’t long before Jack fell asleep like that, his son a warm, comforting presence on his chest.

* * *

Archie was an absolute curmudgeon from the moment Jack and Ioan stepped out of their car to greet him. He was complaining about… something about the addition of a new archivist? Jack didn’t get it. Wasn’t that exactly what they wanted—for UNIT to step up and finally take initiative in the project?

Jack understood the moment he met Edwin Abbott. The man was a total pain in the ass, complete with a snooty, holier-than-thou attitude and a temper to match. Jack refrained from punching the man only because Ioan was with him.

Due to Mr. Abbott’s snivelling complaints, Jack and Ioan were not allowed to situate themselves in their room before they started this year’s archiving. No, Jack was ushered down to the Archives right away, expected to begin the “G” section immediately. Jack actually had to fight with Mr. Abbott to let Ioan come with them.

“I’m not going anywhere without him,” Jack said.

“He’s a _child_ ,” Mr. Abbott said. “Hardly the sort of person who should be allowed around confidential and potentially dangerous material.”

“He stays with me, or I don’t go at all,” Jack warned.

“Empty threats, Captain,” Mr. Abbott sneered. “We could easily find someone new to replace your efforts.”

“Oh, really?” Jack asked. “Then why did it take five years for UNIT to hire you, if it’s that easy to find someone willing to archive?”

Mr. Abbott glared at Jack instead of answering, then disappeared into the first room of the “G” section.

“Come on,” Jack murmured gently to the now quite terrified Ioan. “We’ll go find a different room to archive, okay?”

Jack worked well past supper before they were finally allowed out of the Archives. By then, Ioan was terribly hungry and Jack was absolutely furious. He channelled his rage into hauling the luggage up to their room all at once, then had some deep, calming breaths and took Ioan to dinner.

The next morning, they were awoken at the asscrack of dawn, and Jack flipped out on Mr. Abbotts. By the time he had finished shouting, Mr. Abbotts was as white as a sheet and Ioan was sniffling behind the door to their room, but the message was across: Jack was in control of when and how he archived. Mr. Abbotts left him alone after that.

It wasn’t until the third day of archiving that Jack learned that they’d be there until New Years Day. Jack spent a good while panicking. He needed to be home for New Years. Home, where he could stay with Ioan and make absolutely certain that Ioan was alive and well, not at Torchwood House, where UNIT was breathing down their necks and danger waited at every step.

Jack was still panicking when Ioan begged him to go outside that afternoon.

“I wanna go play,” Ioan told him. “Can’t play down there!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Jack said. Maybe the fresh air would calm him down.

It didn’t. If anything, it put him even more on edge. At one point, Ioan took a huge gasp of air, and then ripped his hand from out of Jack’s.

For a moment, Jack’s mind went absolutely blank. Blank and cold and empty and lost. No, no no no no. Not Ioan. Not like Gray. _Not Ioan_.

“Daddy!”

The weight lifted from Jack’s chest and he could breathe again.

“There’s some _kitties_!” Ioan exclaimed, pointing towards a stack of barrels near the edge of the courtyard.

Sure enough, there were three young cats laying on top of the barrels. Jack looked at the cats and then at Ioan. Asthma and cats? Not a good idea. But the look on Ioan’s face… ah, shit.

“Want to go say hello to them?” Jack asked.

“Yes!”

Ioan dashed off toward the cats and Jack took measured steps behind him, trying to remind himself that Ioan wouldn’t disappear any time he wasn’t holding Jack’s hand. Ioan would be fine. Cats wouldn’t do him any harm. Not lasting, anyway.

“Oh, they’re gettin’ _fat_!” Ioan said as he stood on his tiptoes to look at the closest calico cat.

“They are,” Jack said. “There must be a lot of mice to eat around here.”

“Ew, yucky cats,” Ioan said, scrunching his face up. “Don’t eat mice!”

“That’s what they eat,” Jack told him. “They like that.”

Ioan thought on that for a moment, but ultimately returned to his look of disgust.

“I don’t ever wanna be a cat,” he said, “’cause I don’t wanna eat mice.”

“I’ll remind you of that if you ever decide to become one,” Jack chuckled.

Of the three cats, the marmalade cat was the least friendly. It didn’t do anything to Ioan, but it did hiss at Jack, so Jack made sure that Ioan stayed clear of its reach. The calico cat was nice enough, and even let them pet it, but the tuxedo cat was the nicest. It purred like a damn motorboat, which made Ioan giggle.

All of the sudden, Ioan went very, very still and his eyes went very, very wide. Jack instantly began to worry again, but then the biggest grin spread over Ioan’s face.

“Duckies,” he breathed out in utter reverence.

Jack turned to look at what Ioan was seeing, and there they were. A group of ducks were waddling through the courtyard, being herded by a woman. Jack had to hand it to the staff, they really were keen on keeping their heritage alive. Poor ducks were probably going to go get roasted for a dinner, but Jack didn’t have the heart to tell Ioan that.

“Can I go see them?” Ioan asked. “Please please please?”

“Go on,” Jack said, giving him a gentle shove in that direction.

Ioan took off with no further prompting, dashing most of the way to the ducks, then slowing down when the ducks began quacking in alarm. Jack caught up with him at his own pace, then realised he knew the woman that was herding the ducks: she was the kind girl from the kitchens.

“He’s getting big,” she said, nodding down to Ioan. “Feels like only yesterday I was holding him as a wee babe.”

“I know,” Jack said, smiling at her. “Hard to believe that was five years ago.”

“He’s very sweet,” she said.

“You’re like my Daisy,” Ioan was telling the ducks. “And I love you very very much!”

He blew an air kiss to the closest duck.

“He is pretty cute,” Jack agreed, watching Ioan squat in front of the ducks and try to pet them.

The sound of footsteps had Jack looking up and behind them. Two UNIT soldiers walked by, chatting amicably amongst themselves.

“Is it just me,” Jack said, “or are there a lot more people here than there usually are?”

The woman’s face warped into a displeased moue. “They’ve settled.”

“What?”

“UNIT,” she said, nodding to the backs of the officers. “They’ve made a permanent residence here now.”

“Really? Why?”

“Don’t ask me,” she sighed. “I’m just a lowly kitchen maid.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack scoffed. “You’re an important part of the upkeep of this historic building.”

“Am I?” she asked, scornful. “That’s not how they see it.”

“Then they are unfortunate pricks who don’t know a thing about anything.”

She smiled. “Glad you think so. Three months they’ve been here and I… I think I’ll be gone before the next three. I don’t think I can deal with it for much longer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said, rather honestly.

“Daddy, look!”

“I’m looking!” Jack called, turning back to Ioan.

The kid was surrounded by ducks. One of them was nibbling at the end of his coat. He was holding another, giggling as it quacked.

“I hear you’ll be around for New Years,” the woman said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re interested…”

Jack looked over at her.

“I can help you celebrate, if you know what I mean,” she finished, unabashed.

For a moment, all Jack could do was study her. It was a tempting offer. He used to go out on the pull every New Years for the first few years after… after, just to get himself through the night. It generally had worked; no time for thinking when having sex with some hot young thing. She could certainly make that evening like those nights. She was certainly pretty enough for it. But he hadn’t had sex like that since before Ianto had died. Since before he’d met Ianto, actually. Ianto had graciously spent his New Years with Jack both the times he could. And now that Ianto was gone, he wasn’t sure he wanted to revert to his old ways. What he wanted was _Ianto_. But he couldn’t have that.

What he did have, though, was Ianto’s son, and Ioan was possibly the best thing Jack had ever held in his hands. Certainly the most precious thing. And there would be a big change in their lives if Jack had sex with this woman, because she… _appealed_ to him. Not like Ianto had; the way Jack had instantly fallen for Ianto would never be replicated by anyone, as he could never love anyone the way he had loved Ianto. But the attraction was definitely there for this woman, even if it was a subtle hint in comparison to what he had had for Ianto. He could go places with this woman. He _would_ , if they had sex. Hadn’t he come to that realisation the last time he’d thought about this? Everything would change for this woman. And he wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be, but definitely not now, with Ioan in the mix.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her.

“I see,” she said.

“It’s just… he’s only five,” Jack said, not wanting to upset her. “I can’t—”

“I get it,” she said, not unkindly. If anything, she was taking this rejection rather well. “He’s your son. You need to put him first.”

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

“I’m Felicity, by the way,” she told him. “Felicity Taggart. Just in case you ever change your mind.”

He smiled gently at her. Maybe, in a few years, he would. Maybe. Just not now.

“While I’m glad you like the ducks,” Felicity told Ioan, “they have to get going now.”

“Where’re they goin’?” Ioan asked, peering up at her.

“Um…” She looked back at Jack and he gave her a meaningful look. “To the… bath.”

“Oh!” Ioan exclaimed. “They’re gonna get clean!”

“Yes, very clean,” Felicity said. “So, say goodbye!”

“Goodbye duckies,” Ioan said, kissing the head of the one he was petting. “I love you. Have a nice bath!”

Jack marvelled at how tame the ducks were as they waddled off, and briefly wondered if they could have a pet duck. Then he remembered how much work pets were and prepared himself to turn Ioan down when he inevitably asked.

Of course, Ioan asked right away when Jack hadn’t fully prepared his answer yet.

“No, we can’t get pet ducks or cats,” Jack told him.

“Why not?” Ioan asked, his face falling pitifully.

“Because we… don’t have…” Jack searched his brain for a good answer, “the right house for them.”

“We could just get a different house, then,” Ioan suggested.

“Well, we wouldn’t live by Aunt Gwen then, would we?”

Ioan heaved a resigned sigh.

They had roast duck for supper that night, and Jack didn’t have the heart to tell Ioan what it was.

* * *

Ioan’s favourite game to play on the walk to and from the pool was “jump the cracks.” He jumped every single crack in the pavement. He was a pro at it, the champion of all crack-jumpers. But it meant that their walk was very slow, and Ioan’s new swim teacher, Miss Pritchard, didn’t like that very much. She hated when people were late.

They weren’t late today, thankfully, but Ioan had a really hard time hearing everything Miss Pritchard was saying because the other kids were being very loud in the echoey pool, so not exactly a win today. Ioan was very tired afterward, both from the physical exertion and from attempting to pick Miss Pritchard’s voice from out of the crowd.

Due to said tiredness, Ioan didn’t jump the cracks on the way back to the car. Instead, he just dragged himself onwards, holding Jack’s hand limply and sighing a lot. Jack wasn’t picking him up, though. Not unless he actually asked for it. Jack would gladly pick Ioan up anytime to carry him, but he refused to do it when Ioan was pouting like this. If he truly wanted it, he could use his words.

“Daddy?” Ioan asked when they got into the car.

“Hm?”

“Where’s my mum?”

Jack’s fingers slipped from his buckle by accident. He snatched the seatbelt in time before it hit his face, luckily, but the shock of the moment still remained. He turned around to face Ioan’s innocent, inquisitive gaze.

“Can we talk about this when we get home?” he asked. “So that you’ll have your hearing aids and I don’t have to talk so loud that it hurts your ears?” And so that he could figure out a response on the ride home.

“Okay,” Ioan said, sounding as though he didn’t particularly care when he got the answer, so long as he got it.

“Good.” Jack turned back around and started the car.

Jack’s best bet was dissembling. Any straight up lie would work. But Jack strove to teach Ioan the right things, and he never wanted to lie to Ioan, especially not about something so important as this. Besides, Ioan was _smart_.

Actually, Ms. Morgan had called him in once to talk about that. Jack had come in worrying that something had gone wrong, or that Ioan wasn’t doing well enough, but she’d assured him it wasn’t that. It was quite the opposite. Ioan was doing freakishly well for his age, and she’d wanted to ask him what he was doing at home for Ioan that contributed to this. After Jack had told her that he didn’t do any extra maths or reading outside class, they’d both just surmised he was gifted in the logic and reasoning department. The school’s set up didn’t allow for Ioan to skip a grade, which Jack thought was fine, anyway, because he wanted Ioan to be a kid for as long as Ioan had the chance. But being that smart did mean that Ioan could suss things out pretty well, so lying to Ioan wouldn’t get very far.

Jack was just going to have to tell the truth on this one. He’d have to make it appropriate for a five-year-old, of course, but it would have to be as accurate as it could be.

After Ioan had his hearing aids in, Jack sat him down at the table, then took his own seat. He folded his hands and Ioan tilted his head, then copied him, looking very professional and utterly adorable.

“Before I answer your question,” Jack said, “can I know why you’re asking?”

“Everyone’s got a mum,” Ioan said. “All the kids in my class have a mum ‘cept me. Wynne’s got _two_ mums!”

“Well, I’m going to tell you something right now,” Jack said. “Not everyone has a mum. Some people only have a dad. Some people have two dads. There doesn’t have to be a mum.”

“I _know_ that,” Ioan said, rolling his eyes a little, making Jack smile a little at the thought of how reminiscent of Ianto he looked. “You tell me that all the time!”

“Yes, because you have two dads. Um.” Jack blinked. “One dad. You had two, now you have one. But no mum.”

Ioan glared. “But I _hafta_ have a mum!”

Instead of getting frustrated, Jack just asked, “Why do you think that?”

“Because everyone’s gotta come from the mummy parts!” Ianto told him. “That’s what Sean said!”

Oh. Okay. That was… hm.

“Right,” Jack said. “So, you think you need a mum because daddies don’t have mummy parts?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ioan sighed, evidently relieved to have gotten his point across.

“Okay,” Jack said. “Can you give me a moment? I have to think of a way to tell you what I mean.”

Ioan nodded, and Jack took a few minutes to come up with what he wanted to say.

“Alright,” Jack said. “Do you know what the mummy parts are?”

Ioan shook his head. “All I know is that mums have them and that’s how babies are made.”

“Well, that’s true. When babies are made in mums, they’re made in one specific place. Now, this is the part I need to tell you about. Can you keep a secret?”

Ioan nodded, eyes wide.

“This is going to be a secret because other people don’t like talking about this stuff,” Jack said. “It’s not polite to talk to people about their mummy and daddy parts, okay? You’re not to talk about it to anyone, got it?”

“Got it,” Ioan repeated severely.

“Very good. So, you’re going to keep what I tell you to yourself,” Jack said.

“I will,” Ioan promised.

“I know you will,” Jack said. Ioan was always good on his word, bless his little heart. “You don’t have a mummy. Not at all.”

“But—”

Jack cut him off. “No buts. You do _not_ have a mum. Do you want to know why?”

“Yes,” Ioan said, impatient.

“That’s because I had the mummy parts inside me to give birth to you,” Jack said.

“But you’re Daddy!” Ioan declared confusedly. “How can you be my mum?”

“I’m not your mum,” Jack said. “Didn’t I just say you don’t have a mum?”

Ioan made a frustrated noise.

“I know, it’s confusing,” Jack said, feeling sympathetic. “But the mummy part isn’t always in a mum. Sometimes, it’s in a dad.”

“How is it a mummy part when it’s in a dad?” Ioan demanded. “That makes no sense!”

“Well, it isn’t actually _called_ a mummy part,” Jack informed him. “It’s called a womb. So, they’re not only meant for mummies. For the most part, it’s mums who have them, but sometimes… sometimes dads have them. Very certain dads.”

“Why do they have them?” Ioan asked curiously.

“Because sometimes people have different bodies,” Jack said. “I can tell you more about that sometime when you’re older—”

“Why not _now_?”

Jack frowned. “Because we’re going to talk about me and your dad right now instead. And I don’t want you to be confused about it when I _do_ tell you. I want you to understand, because it’s very important to me that you do.”

Ioan sighed. “ _Fine_.”

“Good. So, the mummy part for making babies is called a womb and it’s not always meant for just mums. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And the womb that made you isn’t inside a mum. It’s inside me,” Jack said.

“Right in your tummy?”

“No. _By_ my tummy,” Jack said, pointing to the general location of his womb. “Right there. That’s where you were made, with help from your dad.”

“How?”

“That… I will also tell you about later.”

“When?”

“Later than when I tell you about gender,” Jack said.

“When’s that?”

“I don’t know yet. Can we return to the subject at hand, please?” When Ioan was silent, Jack continued. “Your dad helped me make you. Then you were a baby inside my womb, and he died. So it was just me and you. When you were born, Aunt Martha helped take you out of my womb, and now you’re here. With me.”

“At the table!” Ioan said.

“Yes, we’re at the table,” Jack said, smiling at him. “So, that means no mum. Just me. And your dad. But really just me. Does that make sense?”

“Um, kinda,” Ioan said, making a thoughtful face.

“Can you tell me what you think I told you, just to make sure we’re on the same page?” Jack asked.

“You have the mummy part even though you’re not a mum, and my dad is dead, and I’m not supposed to talk about mummy or daddy parts.”

Well. Not one hundred percent, but near enough.

“Good job,” Jack said. “That was very difficult to understand, but I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah,” Ioan said. “Can I watch Star Wars now?”

* * *

Ioan’s sixth birthday came relatively quickly and Jack was very calm. In fact, this was the calmest he had ever been around Ioan’s birthday. He felt as though he finally had the hang of it. After all, he’d been a father for six years now, so why shouldn’t he have the hang of it? No existential crises this year. Jack couldn’t do a thing to stop Ioan from getting sick, but Jack’d be damned if he made a fuss about it. No, this year, he was going to be as cool as a cucumber. An odd saying, but one that Jack liked, considering his mother had been very fond of the cucumbers of their planet.

Anyway, it was a surprise to Jack that, while he was a calm father, everyone _else_ was doing the panicking.

And all because Ioan’s teeth fell out.

Jack had invited the Cooper-Williamses and the Joneses over, like they usually did, and Anwen, Evan, and Ioan had been playing in the sitting room while the adults sat in around the table and discussed adult-y things. Then there had been a scream, a laugh, and a whole bunch of noises from the sitting room, and nearly every adult had jumped to their feet and dashed to the room.

There was blood on the carpet, and that was the first thing Jack noticed. He almost panicked then, but he saw the blood on Ioan’s lips, and then calmed down. Oh. All was well, then.

“Ioan, darling, what’s wrong?” Francine asked, dropping to her knees in front of him. “Why’s your mouth bleeding?”

Ioan grinned widely, which, whether he meant to do it to or not, showcased perfectly that the two foremost bottom teeth were missing.

“My teeth came out,” he said, blood dribbling a little down his chin as he said so.

Gwen gasped, appalled. “Anwen! Did you punch his teeth out!”

“’wen punch,” Evan muttered to himself.

“Anwen!”

“I didn’t!” Anwen cried. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Relax,” Jack told Gwen and Anwen both. “He was just repeating you, he’s not tattling on Anwen. Anwen didn’t punch Ioan’s teeth out.”

“Oh,” Gwen said, perplexed. “Then what’s happened?”

“They just falled out!” Ioan told the gaggle of adults.

He held out a fist to Francine, who unballed it and looked inside. She winced, then controlled herself, picking up a small bloody tooth from his hand.

“Where’s the other?” Jack asked.

“Swallowed it!” Ioan told him.

“Oh, shit,” Rhys said, who had just come into the room. “Anwen, what’d you do?”

“I didn’t do it!” Anwen yelled. “Why’s everyone thinkin’ it’s my fault?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Gwen said.

“Maybe if you didn’t play so hard so often,” Rhys muttered. Gwen elbowed him gently in the ribs.

“What’s the tooth gonna do in my stomach?” Ioan asked Jack. “Is it gonna chew my food extra in there?”

“No, it’ll probably just…” Jack looked to Martha. She was too busy gaping at Ioan. “Well. It’s just vanished. It won’t do anything bad.”

“Oh.” Ioan sounded a little disappointed by that.

“Come on, dear,” Francine said, “let’s go get you cleaned up. Then we’ll ask your Daddy what we should do with your tooth, alright?”

Ioan nodded, following Francine to the bathroom to wash up. Gwen and Rhys disappeared with Anwen to the kitchen to wash the few specks of blood off of her, too, and that left Jack with Tish, Martha, and little Evan, who was busy playing with the toy cars Ioan and Anwen had left behind.

“What’s wrong with him?” Martha asked.

“Huh?” Jack asked.

“Kid’s teeth don’t just… fall out!” Martha said. “They wiggle a bit and then they fall out!”

“Ioan’s weren’t wiggly,” Tish added. “I was here last week, remember? He would have told me if they were wiggly.”

“Do you need me to call a dentist? Orthodontist?” Martha asked. “I have friends that I can call in favours to.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Don’t you guys usually yell at _me_ for hysterics?”

“Jack, his teeth are falling out for no reason!” Martha exclaimed. “I think that’s a bit of a problem!”

“Not for no reason,” Jack said. “They fell out when and how they were supposed to. Mine fell out like that, right when I turned six. It’s a fifty-first century thing.”

“How—do humans really change that much in three millennia?” Martha asked, obviously astounded. “Teeth just evolve to fall out exactly six years after birth?”

“Well, actually, that’s the non-human part of fifty-first century humanity,” Jack said.

Martha stared at him.

“What? You’ve seen the future,” Jack said. “You know we intermingle at some point.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect it would be so soon,” she admitted.

“Humans are horny, don’t you get that? We’ll fuck anything and everything in our path.” Jack looked down at Evan to make sure the kid hadn’t heard that. He hadn’t. Good. “It’s a negligible part of our DNA all things considered. Diluted after a few centuries. That being said, there are those with more recent alien ancestry than mine, but the general population of humans… yeah, it’s been a number of generations.”

“And so, what?” Martha asked. “What it gives you is the ability to drop your teeth out right away?”

“Well, that, heightened senses, and an even more broad spectrum of biological sex,” Jack said.

“Ooh,” Tish said knowingly. “Is that why you—” She gestured to his midriff.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Which was why Jack was even more angry about this century’s perspectives on sex and gender than he was on sexuality. He never talked about it, because it pissed him off to no end and nobody ever listened to him.

“So… how do they grow back?” Martha asked.

“Slowly at first, like yours,” he said, “and then all at once. Once they’ve fully burst through the gum, it takes them maybe three days, tops.”

“Shit,” she said.

“And we lose them in coordinating twos,” he said. “Front bottom two, front top two, front bottom two on either side of the first pair… and so on and so forth.”

“Do you know why that happens?” she asked curiously.

“Nope!”

“You’re useless,” she said with a laugh.

“And you’re a ninny,” Jack told her. “I mean, come on. If _I_ wasn’t panicking, _you_ shouldn’t have been panicking.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Shush,” Tish told them as Ioan marched back in the room, chest puffed out with pride.

“Nanna get you all cleaned up?” Jack asked him.

“Yep!” Ioan stuck his jaw out in an attempt to show them the now clean gums.

“Good. What’d you do with the tooth?”

“Nanna has it!”

Jack looked to Francine, who had followed Ioan into the room. She held out her hand and dropped the tooth into Jack’s awaiting one.

“Wasn’t sure if there was a tooth fairy on Boeshane,” Francine whispered.

“There isn’t,” Jack muttered back.

“Good, because I didn’t tell him about one.”

“We burn our teeth.”

“You _what_?” Francine asked.

“Don’t look at me like that; they did it in medieval England, too.”

* * *

Jack had come home before Ioan had this time. And the odd thing was, he didn’t feel like the world was coming to pieces, so it was okay that he had some time to himself. It meant he could get some chores done, like finally fixing that faucet in their second loo.

He’d always liked fixing things. If he was honest, his favourite sorts of ships and planes had always been the junky ones, the ones that always needed a tune-up every week or so. Jack loved giving all of his time and devotion to something like that. His first ship had been a run-down wreck, and it was still his favourite. He’d worked so hard on it that it was the fastest ship of all of his friends’. It was a zippy little thing, that ship. He missed it.

Sooner than expected, the front door opened and slammed shut.

“Daddy?”

Jack wiped down the faucet one more time, turned it on and off to make sure it was all in order, then left the loo in search of his son.

Ioan wasn’t hard to find, because he ran straight into Jack’s legs and hugged them with all his might.

“Hi, kiddo,” Jack said. “How was your camping trip?”

“It was _awesome_ ,” Ioan breathed, grinning up at Jack.

“I’m glad to hear,” Jack said.

And he was. Ever since Gwen had told him they were going to spend the night in the Brecon Beacons, Jack had been in panic. But she’d promised to shoot anyone who even looked at the kids the wrong way, so there was that to ease his troubles.

“We ate marshmellons,” Ioan said.

“Marshmallows,” Jack corrected.

“Yeah! Those! They were sticky and I got them all over my hands. And it was cold out! So we sat by the fire and Aunt Gwen told us ghost stories!”

“Oh?” Jack asked. “What kind of ghost stories?”

“One about some guy named Tommy who liked a girl with the same name as in your stories. Toshiko. Aunt Gwen says she was pretty and he was cute and that’s why they liked each other. And then you all went to the hospital and the ghosts came out!”

“Wow,” Jack said.

“And then she told a story about a big flying dinosaur named Myfanwy!”

Jack choked on air. “She told you _what_?”

“She said she was your pet, or something!” Ioan said. He cocked his head and looked up at Jack. “Daddy, can we have a pet dinosaur?”

Jack’s mouth opened and closed once or twice before he thought of a suitable answer.

“Dinosaurs are extinct, kid,” Jack told him. “We can’t have one as a pet.”

“But Aunt Gwen said—”

“Plus, they wouldn’t fit in this house, would they?” Jack asked.

Ioan contemplated that for a second. “No…”

“No. So, no dinosaurs.”

“Hmph,” Ioan pouted.

“But I can tell you a great story about Myfanwy,” Jack said.

“Is it about my dad?” Ioan asked. “’Cause they’re always about my dad.”

“Is… that a bad thing?” Jack asked, cautious.

“No,” Ioan said with a shrug. “Aunt Gwen told me about one of his stories, too.”

“Was it about Myfanwy the pterodactyl?”

“Aunt Gwen says she was a pteranodon, and no. She told me about him saving you with a coffee machine.”

Jack snorted. That one was either made up completely or supposed to be a metaphor for Jack and Ianto’s romance. Either way, kudos to her for creativity.

“Do you want to learn about Myfanwy the… pteranodon, then?” Jack asked Ioan.

Ioan beamed widely. “Yes!”

“Okay. Once upon a time, I was racing down the road, and your dad stepped in front of the car!”

“You said that’s dangerous, and I shouldn’t do that.”

“That’s right. You shouldn’t.”

“Then why did—”

“Shush, it’s a story, okay? Anyway, I was speeding down the road, talking to Owen and Toshiko—”

Ioan was absolutely captivated by Myfanwy’s Story, and demanded that for his bedtime story for the next two weeks. Jack was not allowed to embellish or subtract from his original story, which was a pity, because Jack could have made it far more interesting each time. But Ioan wanted the first story, and listened to it wide-eyed each night, gasping or giggling at all the right parts. He even asked to try dark chocolate once, just to see if he’d like it like Myfanwy did. He did not.

Halloween came two and a half weeks after Ioan’s camping trip. Gwen had offered to host a costume party for all of Anwen and Ioan’s new classmates, which would be a completely bonkers thing to do (as Ianto had liked to say), except Jack suspected she needed a bit of chaos in her life, now that she was a stay-home mum all day long. Jack not only encouraged Ioan to go along, but offered to help Gwen. He also needed a little chaos now and then, and he was also excited for Halloween. It was the one Old Earth holiday that was celebrated in part on the Boeshane Peninsula. Of course, it was quite different there compared to here, but it still made Jack happy to see something even a little similar to what was at home.

Anyway, Ioan had planned a highly specific costume that Jack bent over backwards to complete and perfect.

The thing was, not everyone understood the costume, because, as stated, it was highly specific.

“Oh, hello, what are you?” Gwen asked as she opened the door to let them in. “A… boss, of some sort?”

“ _No_ ,” Ioan said, scowling.

“A… zookeeper?” Gwen tried again.

“ _No_!”

She looked to Jack for help.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “He’s a little fierce about his choice. Ioan, why don’t you _tell_ Aunt Gwen what your costume is, instead of yelling at her?”

“I’m a professional dinosaur catcher,” Ioan said, a little proudly. “Like my dad. _See_?”

Jack had set Ioan up in a strange combination of zookeeper outfit plus professional suit. It had been hard to find a three-piece suit in Ioan’s size, but he’d done it, and he’d added a white collared shirt and red tie to make it look like Ianto’s “Cute Suit.” That was the part of the costume that made him look like a mini Ianto from the Myfanwy Story, and the zookeeper vest (also hard to find in Ioan’s size) and tan sunhat was to make him look more like a true dinosaur catcher. At least, that was what Ioan had told Jack.

“Oh— _oh_ ,” Gwen said, making her deer-in-headlights expression at Jack.

“Yes, complete with dinosaurs,” Jack said, reaching into Ioan’s drawstring bag and pulling out the plush pterosaur and stegosaurus.

Now, those had been fun to shop for. Jack had looked through pages and pages of stuffed dinosaurs on the internet until he’d found a pterodactyl (pteranodon?) that looked the most similar to Myfanwy. Then he’d searched for any other dinosaur just for fun and had found the cute monstrosity that was Ioan’s giant stegosaur. Ioan absolutely adored them from the moment he had set eyes on them, and Myfanwy often travelled with Daisy everywhere Ioan took them.

“Well,” Gwen said. “Isn’t that sweet? I’m sure you’re the best professional dinosaur catcher around.”

“Only ‘cause my dad’s not here,” Ioan told her. “He actually caught a real live dinosaur.”

“Yes, but we can’t go telling people that,” Jack added quickly, giving Ioan a light frown. “Can we?”

Ioan sighed. “ _No_.”

Eventually, Jack had him take off the jacket and waistcoat of his costume to keep him from overheating, but let him keep the zookeeper coat on. He also watched Ioan tell at least four other children off for not understanding his costume that night. It was funny to watch Ioan channel his inner Ianto to sass out the other kids, but also a little concerning. Oh, boy. Maybe he _was_ going to turn out feisty. No, Jack decided. He was pretty sure Ioan was just a little on edge today with all the people around him.

On the first of November, Ioan started puking his guts out.

“Simon passed his bug around,” Gwen told Jack over a phone call. “Anwen’s down and out, too.”

Ioan was in absolute misery. Any kid would be, but Jack was certain this thing was hitting Ioan harder than it needed to.

Jack tucked him into bed after another round of puking, also tucking Ioan’s Daisy on his right side and Stella the Bat on the left.

“No,” Ioan whispered. “Not Stella the Bat.”

“Not Stella the Bat?” Jack echoed, astonished. Stella the Bat had been Ioan’s loyal companion ever since he’d gotten her.

“Myfanwy.”

“You want Myfanwy instead?” Jack asked him.

Ioan gave a small, pathetic nod.

“Okay, kiddo,” Jack said.

He placed a kiss on the centre of Ioan’s forehead, then got up to go get the stuffed pterosaur from Ioan’s room.

When he returned, Ioan was barely clinging onto consciousness, but he did have enough energy to reach out limply for Myfanwy as Jack approached with her. He fell asleep almost the second Jack snuggled her up next to him.

“Oh, Ianto,” Jack murmured as he swiped a damp curl from over Ioan’s eyes. “If only you could meet your son.”

* * *

They were going to be late for swimming. Miss Pritchard would be mad. Jack raced to get Ioan into the car, sped most of the way to the pool, and then had to drag Ioan out from the warmth of the car.

It was a miserably cold day, that was for sure. Jack was actually wearing _gloves_. Jack never used to wear gloves. Not for safety, not to keep from contaminating evidence, and certainly not for _warmth_. And the only time he’d ever worn a _hat_ was when he was serving in the military. Still, examples must be set for certain young boys who think that the world was a “do as I do, not as I say” sort of world, when it was, in fact, the exact opposite. Especially when one’s father was Captain Jack Harkness…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of Ioan's speech patterns from ages 2-5 came from a real child. So, my thanks to my sister, who will never learn of her importance to this fic, because by the time she's old enough to understand some 10-15 years from now, I will undoubtedly have forgotten about it all.  
> Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day!


	2. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I still had more to say on the Ianto and Ioan father/son relationship, too. And Jack/Ianto, obviously.

“We’re going to a wedding, a wedding, a wedding! We’re going to a wedding—” Ioan was singing in the back seat.

“What tune is that?” Ioan asked Jack.

“I think it’s something he picked up from school,” Jack said. “Or maybe on his own.”

“It’s dead annoying,” Ianto muttered.

Jack shot him a look. “Be nice.”

“Jack, he has been singing it for an hour and a half. I am allowed to be a bit piss—”

“Nice words,” Jack admonished.

“A bit _peeved_ ,” Ianto said, glaring at Jack.

“—a wedding, a wedding!”

“Hey, Ioan?” Jack called back.

The obnoxious singing cut short. “What?”

“Can you stop singing that for now? Dad’s tired and his ears need a rest.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There was a blissful silence that descended over the three travellers.

For twelve seconds.

“Are there going to be lots of people?” Ioan asked.

“Yes. Aunt Martha has lots of friends and family.”

“Like Nanna?”

“Yep.”

“And Aunt Tish?”

“Yes.”

“And Aunt Gwen and Uncle Rhys and Anwen and Evan?”

“Them, too.”

“And Keisha?”

“Yes, Ioan, and Keisha.”

“And Mickey Moose?”

“Mickey is the one getting married to Aunt Martha,” Jack said, just as Ianto bit back a groan.

“Oh.”

Another short silence.

“As long as Nanna and Anwen and Keisha are there, it’s gonna be fun,” Ioan said.

“I’m glad you think that,” Jack said.

“Stop. _Talking_.” Ianto grit through his teeth.

“Okay, Ioan, Dad is very tired now and needs no talking. At all.”

Ioan sighed, but finally quieted

Ianto finally got to drift off to sleep. It was well earned, of course. He’d spent most of the night fixing Ioan’s tiny suit, which had come back from the drycleaner’s all wrinkled and a mess. Jack had been baffled by that, saying that that drycleaner had always done his coat just fine, but Ianto didn’t trust him. Jack wouldn’t know a good drycleaner if one hit him in the face. Ianto had elected to rush to the old one he used to use, but Jack told him it had closed down not a year after Ianto had died. Ianto assumed it was probably because Ianto had given it most of its business.

Just as the car rolled to a final stop, Ianto snuffled awake. The sun shone from the bonnet of someone’s car directly into his eyes, making the waking moments even more difficult for him. Also, there was something soft on his neck, and he couldn’t quite make out what it was. As he reached up to grab it, it fell to his lap, and he finally saw that it was Myfanwy.

Ianto turned back to Ioan and held up the stuffed pterosaur in his hand, a questioning eyebrow quirked.

“She’s so you didn’t get lonely when you sleep!” Ioan explained. He held up his Daisy. “I gave you my Daisy, but then I wanted her, so I gave you Myfanwy instead!”

Ianto smiled at him, gave Myfanwy an appreciative pat, then handed her back to Ioan, who took her and snuggled her for a moment, then gently placed Myfanwy and Daisy on the seat next to himself. He unbuckled and hopped out the car.

“Come on!” he told Jack and Ianto. “We gotta get to the wedding!”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Jack told him. “We’re early. No need to rush.”

“Uuugh,” Ioan groaned.

Jack and Ianto got themselves out of the car and Ianto immediately started fussing over the wrinkles in Ioan’s suit and the length of Jack’s tie. Ioan whined and whined until they started heading to the church, then he perked up again, skipping happily as he held both Jack and Ianto’s hands.

It was an uncharacteristically warm and brilliant spring day, Ianto noticed. Absolutely ideal. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the flowers were in bloom, and everything around them was green. Perhaps it was the start of the turn into the summer, but still… it was almost _too_ perfect.

“It’s gorgeous out,” Ianto said to Jack. “This is the best day for a wedding.”

“Yes,” Jack said, his face frowning and tone as sceptical as Ianto felt.

“Did they luck out, or did they have… _help_ picking the date?” Ianto asked.

“It’d make sense if they asked him,” Jack said. “He owes it to them to give them just one perfect day.”

“Do you think he’ll show up?”

Jack seemed to think on it for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Whatever Ianto wanted to say to that, he didn’t have the chance to find out, because Francine was ushering them inside the church and getting them ready. Getting Jack and Ioan ready, anyway. Ianto was sent to go wait in the pews for the next hour or so as everyone else got to take photos and go over the last few minor details before the ceremony.

Ianto understood why he wasn’t in the wedding party. Jack had travelled a bit with Mickey, and was probably the closest friend Mickey still had in this universe, and so was the best option for his best man. Ioan, adored by everyone, was also the only option for ringbearer, as he was the only nephew, albeit adopted one at that. But whereas Ioan and Jack had integrated themselves into the families, Ianto meant next to nothing to them. He didn’t even know Martha all that well, to be honest.

But, being the father and partner of two important members of the wedding party, Ianto _did_ get to sit up at the head table. Even if it was a throwaway gesture, it still meant something to him.

The wedding was nice and the reception was even nicer, filled with good foods and wines. Jack was _not_ allowed to give a toast, thank god, but Tish and Francine did give a joint one. Ioan started complaining about his tie and Jack tried to force him to keep it on, and Ianto had to violently shush them, because now Francine was glaring at them as Tish began her part of the toast.

Toasts and food made way to dancing, and Ianto lost Jack to Tish and Ioan to Anwen and Martha’s only niece and flowergirl, Keisha. Mickey and Martha were out dancing as well, as well as Martha’s brother and his girlfriend, and Francine was somewhere chatting with others, which meant Ianto was all by himself up at the head table. He could see Gwen and Rhys from where he was sitting, and he waved to them, but neither saw.

Honestly, Ianto felt a little lonely.

But only for a short while.

“Oof,” Martha said as she sat down beside him. “My feet are killing me.”

“Well, I suppose that’s what you get for wearing six-inch death spikes,” Ianto said dryly.

“Oh, shush,” Martha said. “It’s my wedding day! You’re legally obligated to be nice to me.”

“I thought that was only for birthdays.”

Martha stuck her tongue out at him.

“Congratulations, though,” Ianto said, raising his champagne flute at her.

“Thanks. Still can’t believe it’s happened,” she admitted. “It’s all so… well, ‘wow’ is the only word that comes to mind, really.”

“I bet,” Ianto said.

“So, are you ever going to tie the knot yourself?” Martha asked.

Champagne did _not_ feel good when it went down the wrong pipe, Ianto discovered. Martha ungracefully thumped his back as he coughed and spluttered. He could only imagine what the scene must have looked like to others.

“I take it you haven’t thought about it, then?” Martha chuckled when he’d stopped coughing.

“Not necessarily, no,” Ianto gasped, wiping his watering eyes.

It wasn’t really on his radar, if he was honest. For most people, getting married might have been the next step, but Ianto didn’t feel it was that important. He’d say yes if Jack asked, obviously, but he wasn’t really looking to make anything official. To him, it already was. He and Jack had settled on the term “partner” for each other, which was a big step from their old pointedly-not-talking-about-what-we-are routine, and to be frank, Ianto was happy with just that. It was a step up from “lover,” which, while adequate, felt a little dated, and a definite change from “boyfriend,” which made him feel like a teenage twat. He liked “partner” and all that it entailed. He didn’t need for the state to say a damn thing about it.

Of course, he wasn’t going to tell Martha that, not on the day of _her_ wedding.

“I’ve only been back for a bit,” Ianto said instead. “I wasn’t planning on rushing into anything.”

“No, I do suppose it’s best not to rush,” Martha agreed.

Ianto gave her an awkward smile as he remembered what Jack said about her ex, Tom Milligan.

“How long have you and Mickey been together, again?” Ianto asked, hoping to smooth the moment over.

“Almost four years now,” Martha said. She beamed happily. “Did Jack ever tell you he tried to interrupt our first date?”

“No,” Ianto said. “But now I’ll—”

Somebody’s tiny finger poked his side. “Dad.”

“—have to ask him—"

The finger poked him again. “ _Dad_.”

Ianto held out a hand for Ioan to wait. “—ask him about it—oh, could you hold on a moment?” he sighed to Martha when Ioan poked him again with another vehement “ _Dad_!”

“It’s fine,” Martha said, smiling and leaning back in her chair as Ianto turned to Ioan.

“I’m trying to talk to Aunt Martha right now, can it wait a moment?” Ianto asked.

There was a beat of silence as Ioan just stared at him. Then he frowned and squinted up at Ianto.

“I dunno what you said, ‘cause the batteries are dead and the music’s loud and now I’m gonna have a headache,” Ioan said bluntly. “Also, I can’t find Daddy. And my chest kinda hurts.”

“Oh, wow,” Martha said. “That’s a lot of problems.”

Ianto wasn’t exactly surprised. It was an overwhelming party for Ioan. There was a lot of people in the room, which wasn’t good for the probable anxiety Ioan had, the air in the room was sort of hot and muggy, which wasn’t good for Ioan’s lungs, it was super loud, which wasn’t helpful for Ioan’s hearing, especially when the batteries in his hearing aids had died. So, it was no wonder Ioan was having problems.

Fortunately, Ianto was always over-prepared for everything he’d ever been to since the Fall of Canary Wharf. There was a small bag that he’d brought for the car keys, wallets, inhaler, and batteries. He fished it off of Jack’s chair, then rooted around it for the inhaler and batteries. He handed the inhaler to Ioan in exchange for the hearing aids, so as Ioan gave himself a puff, Ianto started working on the hearing aids.

“Do you just pop the back open and change the battery?” Martha asked as Ianto opened up the left hearing aid.

“Yep.”

“Great.”

She reached in front of him and stole a small battery and the right hearing aid, repeating his process to get the hearing aids fixed in half the time. Ianto took the inhaler from Ioan and turned him to the side so he could stick the right one in. He did the same for the left ear, then sat back and let Ioan fidget with them until they sat the way he wanted them to.

“Is that one making the noises?” Ianto asked as Ioan spent a long time playing with the right one, the usual sign one was feedbacking.

Ioan grimaced and nodded, so Ianto helped him take the right hearing aid out and then reinsert it in his ear.

“That better?” Ianto asked.

“Yes,” Ioan said.

“Good.”

“But my head’s gonna _hurt_ ,” Ioan said. “’cause it’s _loud_.”

“We could take a break in a quiet room, if you need,” Ianto offered.

“There are no quiet rooms!” Ioan whined, leaning forward into Ianto’s torso.

Ianto rubbed a hand on Ioan’s back. “There’s always the loo.”

“Don’t wanna go there,” Ioan mumbled into Ianto’s shirt.

“Okay, then, what do you want?”

“I wanna go play with Keisha and Anwen.”

Ianto failed to see how that would aid in stopping a headache, but if that was what Ioan wanted…

“Why don’t you go do that. But first, what do we say to Aunt Martha?”

Ioan cocked his head to the side as he looked at Martha.

“I like your dress?” Ioan guessed.

Martha laughed and Ianto sighed.

“No,” Ianto said. “We say, ‘thank you, Aunt Martha, for helping me with my hearing aids.’”

“Oh.” Ioan repeated what Ianto said, then looked up imploringly at his father. “Can I go play now?”

Ianto nodded. “Go on, then.”

Ioan grinned at him, then sprinted away from Ianto and Martha, back onto the dance floor, to where Keisha and Anwen were having a twirl-off with their dresses.

Martha sighed, leaning her cheek on one hand. “I miss when he used to call me ‘Aunt Marfa.’”

Before Ianto could respond, Mickey suddenly appeared behind them. Martha sat up instantly with a smile, which slowly dropped from her face into a look of surprise as Mickey whispered something in her ear.

“Sorry, Ianto,” Martha said, getting up. “Gotta go.”

She kissed his cheek, then dashed off as quickly as she could in her six-inch death spikes and wedding gown, her new husband following closely behind.

And Ianto was alone again, which he didn’t really enjoy. So, he started scanning the crowds for Jack. He found Tish, but she’d evidently switched from dancing with Jack to dancing with her brother. Francine was “dancing” with the kids (holding their hands and doing ring-around-the-roses, it seemed). Gwen and Rhys were making lovey-dovey faces at each other as Evan made a mess of their table. Martha and Mickey were gone. There was nobody else that Jack really knew, so Ianto sat back in his chair, perplexed. Where had Jack gone? The loo? Outside? Or was he just hidden?

Ianto kept scanning the crowds of people, over and over, just in case he found Jack amongst some throng of people that he’d missed before. He focused very hard on each individual’s face, checking and double-checking that it wasn’t Jack. In fact, he was so focused that, when a hand gently rest on his shoulder as someone took Martha’s vacated spot, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Christ,” Ianto breathed, turning to Jack. “Where did you come from?”

“Right beside you,” Jack said, grinning. “You just didn’t notice, because you were so busy staring at everyone. Who were you looking for?”

“ _You_ , you idiot.”

“Ah,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of his chair and clasping his hands on the table. He looked over the sea of people below, almost pensive in expression. “I wasn’t down there.”

“So I’ve gathered,” Ianto said. “Where were you?”

“Out.”

“Out where?” Ianto asked.

“Let’s just say… I was doing some catching-up,” Jack said without looking at Ianto.

“Oh.” A moment passed before it hit truly hit him. “ _Oh_.”

Jack merely nodded, looking at his hands.

“What did he want?” Ianto asked.

Jack shrugged. “Not much. Like I said, just catching up.”

“And… that’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Oh.”

Jack reached out a hand and stroked it down Ianto’s arm gently, looking back up to the crowds of people, his eyes scanning the place until he found what he wanted. He smiled, soft as could be, and Ianto followed his gaze down to Ioan, who was now dancing with just Francine as Keisha and Anwen danced with each other.

“I’d never leave you,” Jack said after a moment. “Not you or him. Never. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Ianto said.

“Good.”

Jack’s hand went up and down Ianto’s arm a few more times as they watched Ioan dance. The look on the kid’s face was one of pure ecstasy, and Ianto couldn’t help but smile himself as he watched Ioan and Francine shimmy around.

“His hearing aids ran out of batteries,” Ianto said, breaking their silence. “I replaced them. And gave him a puff of his inhaler because he was complaining about his chest. But he swears his head is going to hurt later, so…”

“He’s having fun now, though,” Jack said.

“Yep.”

Jack suddenly turned, leaning back in his seat and taking Ianto in.

“What?” Ianto asked, frowning.

“How would you like to dance?” Jack asked, grinning like an idiot.

Ianto surveyed him for a moment.

“I suppose I don’t actually have a say in the matter, do I?” he asked.

“Nope,” Jack said, getting to his feet.

“Well, then,” Ianto said. He stood up and took Jack’s hand. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It was morning, but Ianto didn’t want to be awake. The instant he opened his eyes, he closed them again, rolling onto his side and reaching for Ioan. His hand smacked a thick bicep instead.

“Mmmff,” Jack grumbled. “I’m sleeping.”

Ianto blinked his eyes open again. Ioan was not in his line of sight. He sat up, looking around for the boy. He wasn’t in the room.

“Jack,” he said, smacking the bicep. “Jack, where’s Ioan?”

“Sleeping. Like me. Shush.”

“He’s not here,” Ianto said.

“Mmmm.”

“I’m going to find him,” Ianto said, heedless of Jack’s resumed snores.

Ioan wasn’t one to wake up earlier than usual. Not unless he knew a fun activity was planned for the day. There wasn’t, was there? No. They were planning to spend the first week of Ioan’s break sleeping in and mostly doing nothing all day. So why was Ioan up so early?

Ianto didn’t even make it out of the hallway to the bedrooms before he heard weak sniffles from inside the bathroom.

“Ioan?” Ianto asked, knocking on the door.

A sob answered him, and so Ianto opened the door as quickly as possible, barging into the bathroom with little thought.

Ioan was leaning against the toilet, crying quietly to himself as he laid his cheek on the rim. Ianto stared at him in horror for a moment, then rushed to him and knelt down beside him.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Ianto asked, running a hand gently on Ioan’s back.

If Jack got to call Ioan ‘kid’ or ‘kiddo,’ Ianto was allowed to call him ‘buddy.’ Even if it did sound a little stupid. He just wanted to be included, alright?

“I threw up,” Ioan sobbed.

“You threw up?” Ianto parroted.

Ioan nodded. “In the toilet. I flushed it. I _feel bad_.”

“I bet you do,” Ianto murmured gently. “How long ago?”

With a sniff, Ioan shrugged slightly. “I dunno. Little bit.”

“Like ten minutes?”

“I guess,” Ioan said.

“Okay. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I tried. You and Daddy were too asleep. So I ran before I threw up on you, ‘cause I didn’t want you to get mad at me.”

“We wouldn’t get mad at you for being sick,” Ianto told him. “Not ever.”

“I feel bad,” Ioan sobbed again.

A pang of sympathy went straight to Ianto’s heart. “Oh, buddy. I know.”

Ianto sat there with Ioan, gently stroking a hand up and down his back, until Ioan stopped sobbing and threw up again. Honestly, the last person Ianto had watched vomit was Lisa, and that had been years ago. It was even worse, watching his son retch his guts up. At least Lisa had known she’d be okay in a little bit. Ioan just started crying harder after he’d vomited and was nearly inconsolable.

After Ianto was sure Ioan wouldn’t puke again, he had Ioan get up and swish some water around his mouth and spit it out to get rid of the vomit taste. Then he sat back down, leaned against the tub, and held Ioan in his lap, soothing him with quiet song. Ioan fell into a fitful sleep not long after, and Ianto just held his child in his arms, resting his cheek against those lovely curls.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep himself, but it felt like only moments had passed before Ianto was being shaken awake.

“What?” he asked muzzily, blinking up at… “Oh. You. You’re awake now.”

“Is it you or him?” Jack asked, alarm clearly written on his face.

“Huh?” Ianto asked, confused. Then his brain cleared a little as the sleep started to wear away. “Um, him.”

Ianto looked down at the child in his lap, tilted sideways and head resting on Ianto’s left arm, still sleeping sort of poorly.

“ _Kiddo_ ,” Jack said empathetically, gently caressing Ioan’s upward-facing cheek.

“Shh,” Ianto shushed. “Don’t wake him up.”

“I’m not going to,” Jack whispered, scowling up at Ianto.

“He threw up twice,” Ianto told him. “I’m not sure if it’s food poisoning or a stomach flu.”

“What’d he eat yesterday?”

Ianto thought back. “Toast for breakfast… ham sandwich for lunch. And soup for dinner.”

“Hm.” Jack frowned. “I don’t think it’s the food. Unless the ham was bad?”

Ianto shook his head. “I just bought it. And it’s from a good butcher.”

“Okay. Who has he been around recently?”

“He was hanging out with… oh, those twins at the park yesterday, remember? They might’ve had a bug. Or he could have picked up some germs from the playground.”

“Last time he was sick like this was a couple of weeks before you came,” Jack said. “Poor kid.”

In Ianto’s arms, Ioan groaned quietly. He shifted slightly, then groaned again, his face wrinkling in what looked like agony.

“Hey, Ioan,” Jack said, patting Ioan’s cheek gently. “Kiddo, wake up.”

Ioan’s eyes opened just a crack. His lip wobbled almost immediately.

“Sick,” he told Jack, his voice wavering.

“I know,” Jack said. “But it’s okay, you’re going to—”

“No,” Ioan interrupted, slightly more urgent. “ _Sick_.”

“Oh,” Ianto said, looking up at Jack.

In two swift movements, Ianto hoisted Ioan up and Jack took him and swung him over to the toilet, just as Ioan began to heave again.

When they were certain Ioan was done throwing up the contents of his stomach, they drew him a bath and had him soak all the germs off for a bit. Jack sat beside him as Ianto cleaned out the bathroom as best as he could. Then they pulled him out of the bath and dressed him in his favourite pyjamas to get him comfortable.

“But I’m gonna be sick in them,” Ioan protested weakly.

“And that’s okay,” Ianto told him. “Sick will wash out of clothes.”

“But I don’t wanna get ‘em dirty ‘cause then I can’t wear them!”

“Then we’ll just put on your other favourite pair if that happens, okay?”

Ioan nodded, and let Jack help him put his ducky shirt on.

“I want Daisy and Myfanwy,” Ioan said, pouting up at Jack.

“Yep,” Jack said, giving a quick peck to Ioan’s forehead before ducking out of the bedroom to go get them.

They moved Ioan to the sofa in the sitting room, along with Myfanwy, Daisy, and a bucket for him to be sick into just in case that happened again. Ioan begged not to be left alone, so Ianto let him cuddle up on his lap.

“I’m thirsty,” Ioan croaked after a while. “Can I have some water?”

“You can have ice,” Ianto said. “If you drink water, you’ll just throw it up again.”

“But I want water!”

“It’s not good for you right now. If you’re thirsty, you can suck on some ice, alright?”

Ioan sighed, but accepted the cup of ice chips that Jack brought him.

They put on a Star Wars marathon at Ioan’s behest. Jack curled himself around Ianto and Ioan on the sofa, holding them both in his arms. Ianto rested his head on Jack’s arm as Ioan buried himself deeper into Ianto’s chest, watching the film from the corner of his eye for as long as he remained awake, which wasn’t for long.

“You’re very jumpy,” Ianto remarked quietly after Jack leaned close to check on Ioan for the fourth time.

“I am not.”

“Are too,” Ianto said. “He will be okay. You don’t need to worry.”

“But he’s so little!”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “All kids get sick, no matter how big or small.”

“But—”

“Jack,” Ianto said.

Jack sighed and leaned forward, placing his head on Ianto’s shoulder. Ianto rested his head gently against Jack’s.

It wasn’t long before they fell back asleep like that.

* * *

“Seven years old,” Ianto said.

“Yep!” Ioan said, setting his Daisy on the table. “And Daisy will be six in three days!”

“Will she now?” Ianto asked.

“Mhm!”

Ianto looked to Jack.

“He was three days past his first birthday when he first got pneumonia,” Jack explained. “Some nurse gave him Daisy. Ergo, six in three days.”

“Do we… celebrate that?” Ianto asked, eyeing the plush duck.

“Yes,” Ioan said as Jack shook his head.

“Do you?” Ianto asked Ioan.

“She gets to hang out with Myfanwy this year, and they’re going to fly to the moon and back,” Ioan said, patting Daisy gently. “And eat Moon Birthday Cake!”

“What does that taste like?” Ianto asked.

“I dunno. Rocks.”

Ianto shot Jack a look, who shrugged.

“Does… Daisy like eating rocks?”

“Probably not. But this is cake! Not rocks. Silly.”

“Right, how silly of me.”

“But there’s some dinosaurs that ate rocks!” Ioan informed him. “The ced—cedar—cedarosaurus… that’s a sauropod that used rocks in its tummy to eat plants!”

“Oh, _that’s_ where the tooth thing came from,” Jack said quietly to himself.

Ianto sent him a questioning glance. Jack responded with a look of his own that clearly stated, “I’ll tell you later.”

“You do know a lot about dinosaurs,” Ianto said.

“I like them,” Ioan said, grinning up at Ianto. “But I like the flying ones best.”

“The pterosaurs.”

“Yep!”

“Me, too,” Ianto said, reaching out a hand to ruffle Ioan’s hair.

“Hey! Quit messin’ my hair!”

“Sorry,” Ianto said, smiling. “It’s just very mess-able.”

“Mess _your_ hair,” Ioan said.

He climbed up onto a chair and reached over, rubbing his hand quickly back and forth through Ianto’s hair.

“There,” Ioan said when he finished. “Now you look silly!”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Very silly. That’s why Daddy’s making that face.”

Ianto looked over to Jack.

“That’s not Daddy’s silly face,” Ianto said after he’d controlled the urge to laugh.

“What face is it, then?” Ioan asked, peering up at Jack.

“Not a face you ever want to see again, let me assure you,” Ianto said, sending a warning look to Jack as he still fought against his urge to laugh.

Jack coughed.

“I’ll be back in a few moments,” he said. “I’m going to go. Um. Shower.”

And he turned and retreated as fast as he could.

“Why’s he takin’ a shower now?” Ioan asked after he’d disappeared. “It’s almost lunch!”

“Because your father is very, very dirty,” Ianto said. “Now, what do you want to eat?”

“Hamwich.”

“Oh, come on,” Ianto said. “It’s your birthday! Surely that means you want to eat anything other than the same thing you eat. Every. Day. Make it special!”

“Hamwich,” Ioan repeated stubbornly, folding his arms.

“Fine,” Ianto sighed.

Ianto made Ioan a ham sandwich, much like he had for every day for the past three months. Ioan wolfed it down almost instantly. That boy had an appetite like no other. Ianto supposed that was a good thing; when he was that age, he was insanely picky. And also, Ioan was still very small for his age, so the more he ate, the more he grew. Ianto was not about to withhold food.

“Ianto?”

“What?” Ianto called back to Jack as he cleared away Ioan’s plate.

“Did you fix your hair?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

Jack peeked his head around into the room. He visibly relaxed when he saw that Ianto had, indeed, fixed his hair back to its usual fluff.

“Maybe I should cut my hair,” Ianto murmured as Jack came to stand behind him, wrapping his arms around Ianto’s waist and resting his chin on Ianto’s shoulder.

“No,” Jack said. “I like it.”

“A little too much. If you can’t control yourself around children…”

“I can too!” Jack told him. “It’s just… been a while.”

“It’s been five days.”

“Used to be we’d do it every day…”

“That was _before_ ,” Ianto said. “This is now. And we like now much better than before, don’t we?”

Jack grumbled slightly as he pressed a kiss to Ianto’s neck.

“Maybe just grow a beard, then,” Jack suggested.

“It’ll be itchy.”

“No, it won’t,” Jack said, kissing Ianto’s neck again. “It’ll be handsome.”

“Daddy, why’re you kissin’ Dad’s neck?” Ioan asked.

Ianto nudged Jack in the gut with his elbow, and Jack detached himself from Ianto instantly, going over to kiss Ioan’s forehead.

“Because kisses mean ‘I love you,’ remember?” Jack asked when he pulled away.

“You said that about _heads_ , not _necks_!”

“Did I?” Jack said, winking at Ianto.

Ianto rolled his eyes again.

“Yes,” Ioan said matter-of-factly. “You did.”

“Well, someday you’ll understand,” Jack told him.

“Next year?” Ioan asked. “When I’m eight?”

Jack laughed. “No, a lot older than that, kiddo.”

“Like when I’m… twenty?”

“Yes, that’s a good age,” Ianto said.

Jack scoffed at the same time, “Younger than that, kid.”

Ianto shot Jack a glare.

“Twenty is a good age,” he repeated.

Jack shook his head in opposition but said nothing more.

“My mouth feels weird,” Ioan said after a pause.

“Teeth,” Jack said instantly. “To the bathroom!”

Ioan jumped out of his seat and sped out of the room to the bathroom. Jack followed him, picking up Daisy as he went, and Ianto slowly trailed behind the both of them, curious. Ianto had missed the first two times Ioan’s teeth had fallen out because he was dead, and the third because he’d been out shopping at the time. Jack hadn’t warned him beforehand that they fell out on a schedule. Now that he had the chance to watch, He was sort of intrigued to see how Ioan’s top lateral incisors would fall out, in a weird sort of way.

“I don’t _wanna_ pull them out,” Ioan was telling Jack when Ianto entered the bathroom.

“It’ll get them out faster,” Jack told him. “Just like this, look!”

Ioan batted Jack’s hands away from his face. “No! I don’t want it to hurt!”

“It won’t feel any different than just letting them fall out.”

“I don’t wanna pull them out!” Ioan said again.

“Jack, don’t harass him,” Ianto chided.

“It won’t hurt him!”

“I don’t _wanna_!”

“Just let them fall out on their own,” Ianto told Jack, scowling meaningfully at him to get him to shut up. Ianto smoothed some hair on Ioan’s head. “You don’t have to pull them out if you don’t want to.”

Jack hmphed to himself.

“Don’t be grumpy,” Ianto said to him. “He’s seven. He’s allowed to be cautious.”

Jack’s face contorted through a few emotions.

“Well, the least he could do is stand over the sink, so the blood doesn’t get everywhere,” Jack said. “Or so he doesn’t swallow them.”

“He swallows them?”

“It was a accident,” Ioan said, peering up at Ianto.

“I’m not so sure,” Jack said, eyeing Ioan. “Now that I now know about sauropods and rocks eating leaves in their tummies…”

Ianto gave a small “oh” of understanding as he finally grasped Jack’s earlier comment.

“It was!” Ioan declared. “I didn’t _mean_ to!”

But Ioan had that look on his face that stated that if his tooth would have acted like a gastrolith in a cedarosaurus, he definitely would have tried to swallow the tooth on purpose.

“Okay, okay, enough fighting,” Ianto said. “Ioan, up onto the stool. I’m not cleaning up your blood from the tiles.”

Ioan stepped up onto his little bathroom stool, leaning his belly across the edge of the counter so he could hover his head over the sink. Jack and Ianto watched him silently as he swayed his head back and forth to a melody only known to him, all three of them waiting for the teeth to fall out. Ianto sort of wished this had been how his teeth had fallen out. Less fuss this way.

“Ah!” Ioan cried abruptly.

He spat into the sink, and two bloody teeth hit the sink. To Ianto’s horror, Jack reached into the sink and picked them up, rinsing them under the tap in his hands. Ianto gave him a look of disgust, then began helping Ioan clean his face and mouth.

“There,” Jack said when the remainder of the blood had been washed away. He held out two pearly white incisors. “First teeth of being seven!”

“Woah,” Ioan said.

“Smile at me,” Ianto said to Ioan.

Ioan beamed upon command, and Ianto grinned back at the gappy smile.

“Very cute,” Ianto told him.

“When do my next teeth fall out?”

“Not until after those have grown back in,” Jack said. “In another three months, they’ll fall out.”

“That’s forever!”

Jack snorted.

“It’s not _forever_ ,” Ianto said. “It’s just three months.”

“Anwen hasn’t even lost her front four teeth yet,” Jack reminded Ioan. “You’re ahead of the game.”

“And no wisdom teeth,” Ianto said.

“What are those?” Ioan asked, tilting his head.

“Smart teeth.”

“ _No_ ,” Ianto said, elbowing Jack. “They’re extra teeth that you’ll never need. Be glad you don’t need to get them removed.”

“Oh. Did you have them?” Ioan asked.

“Yes. I don’t anymore.”

“Don’t have your appendix, either,” Jack said. “Still have your tail bone, though.”

“Hang on, you don’t have a _tail bone_?”

“We don’t have tails,” Ioan said confusedly. “Why do you have a tail bone, Dad?”

“Does he not have a tail bone?” Ianto asked Jack, pointing at Ioan.

Jack shrugged. “Never checked.”

“ _Jack_!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you have useless body parts!”

“It’s not useless!”

“By the time I’ll be born, it’ll be completely vestigial!”

“We don’t _have tails_ ,” Ioan repeated to himself, frowning at the floor.

“No, we don’t,” Jack said. “You’ll learn about it later.”

“Ducks have tails.”

“Yes.”

“And dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs and ducks are related,” Ianto told Ioan. “Birds are descended from dinosaurs.”

Ianto laughed as Ioan’s eyes went wide with shock.

“You didn’t know that?” he asked.

“ _Daisy’s a dinosaur_?”

* * *

Ianto had promised Jack he’d have a way to tell Rhiannon about, well, _everything_ , by the time he turned twenty-seven. Or thirty-four, depending on the way one looked at it. Point was, Ianto was supposed to have had something ready to say to his sister, and what did he have? Nothing. He had nothing.

“Just be yourself,” Jack murmured into Ianto’s neck. He placed a kiss just below Ianto’s ear. “That should work.”

“Yes, if this were an interview,” Ianto said, “and not a ‘hey, I’m not dead!’ meeting with my sister.”

“Mmmm.”

“You’re not paying attention.”

“ _You’re_ not paying attention.”

“Jack, this is serious!” Ianto exclaimed as teeth found his earlobe.

Jack sighed, flopping back into the pillows behind them. “And you say _my_ manners in bed are atrocious. You’re the one who keeps trying to talk during sex.”

“This is more important than sex right now,” Ianto said. “And pot and kettle, here. You talk, too.”

“Yeah, but that’s the kind of talking you’re supposed to do during sex. This is… a turn off. Who wants to talk about their sister during sex?”

“I’m not trying to! I want you to stop so that we can discuss this!”

“What’s the point of sending Ioan to Gwen’s if we’re not going to spend it having copious amounts of sex?” Jack asked, but, to his credit, he did not carry on his advances.

“Speaking of Ioan,” Ianto said, “I want to take him along.”

Jack frowned minutely. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it’d do best to get all the secrets out into the open at once,” Ianto said. “And… well, I just… want him there, I guess.”

“He _is_ your son,” Jack said, sitting up and resting his chin on Ianto’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to want that.”

“I know. I’m just running it by you. His other dad.”

“Well, me, his other dad, loves and trusts you, so I don’t particularly care. Do you want me to come, too?”

Ianto sighed. “I suppose that’d be for the best. She might hate you less if you’re there to explain skipping my funeral.”

Jack groaned and buried his face in Ianto’s neck. “I forgot about that…”

“Yes, well, she won’t have. Rhiannon holds grudges like nobody’s business.”

“We _could_ just stay in bed all day…”

“No,” Ianto said, starting to get up. “I owe her this.”

Twenty minutes later, Ianto and Jack had picked up Ioan and were on the road to Newport. Ioan was dead tired and fell asleep within minutes, obviously worn out from spending all night up with Anwen. Ianto practically had to stop Jack from crawling into the back seat to hold Ioan in his arms.

“But he’s so _little_ ,” Jack said. “And so—”

“Tired,” Ianto finished, taking his eyes from the road momentarily to glare at Jack. “If you pick him up, that will disturb his sleep. Not to mention it’s not safe.”

“I’m not going to pick him up; just sit next to him!”

Ianto sighed.

“See, if you’d have let me drive, this wouldn’t happen,” Jack accused.

“You can’t drive there. You don’t know where she lives.”

“Why can’t we just meet her at the cemetery?” Jack asked. “She goes there every year.”

Ianto held back a shudder. He didn’t necessarily feel like going and standing over his own body at the moment. No thanks.

“It’ll be best this way.”

A lie. There was probably no best way to reveal himself to Rhiannon, because Ianto suspected she’d yell at him like she did, no matter how he’d given her the news. She did have quite the voice, when it came to it. The whole neighbourhood probably heard her.

“So,” Rhiannon sniffed as the three of them sat around her kitchen table. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“Rhiann—”

“Don’t ‘Rhiannon’ me,” she snapped. “You were gone for eight bloody years. We thought you were dead. How the hell do you explain that?”

“Language,” Jack muttered.

She glared at him with the might of a thousand suns. Jack shut up.

“Rhiannon,” Ianto said again. “I don’t know what you want to hear. I could tell you the truth, but I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you already know the truth,” Ianto said.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do,” he countered. “You’ve been living it. I _was_ dead.”

“No,” she said.

“For seven years.”

_“No!”_

Jack had actually clapped his hands over Ioan’s ears at the force and volume of Rhiannon’s voice. Ioan did not look pleased about it and squirmed on Jack’s lap in an attempt to free himself.

“How do you expect me to believe that?” Rhiannon demanded. “I mean, what sort of witless arse do you take me for? You’re sitting here, right in front of me! People do _not_ just come back to life!”

Jack snorted. Ianto glared at him. Ioan’s eyes imploringly asked Ianto to take Jack’s hands off his ears. Rhiannon just looked incensed.

“Okay,” Ianto said, realising he needed a new tactic. He reached out and lifted Jack’s hands away from Ioan’s head one after another, then turned to Rhiannon. “Look at me. How old do I look?”

Rhiannon seemed baffled enough by that question that some of her anger actually left. “I dunno. What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one,” Ianto said. “Let me rephrase. Do I look thirty-four to you?”

“I—no,” Rhiannon said, looking utterly confused.

“I should be thirty-four,” Ianto said. “But I’m not. I’m not even twenty-seven, technically, but that’s the closest we’re going to get. You tell me. Which do I look like to you?”

“Twenty-seven…”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Good genes, probably.”

“Dad died in his early fifties from a heart attack and Mum died in her _mid_ -fifties from cancer, and you think we have good genes?” Ianto scoffed.

Jack’s hold on Ioan tightened minutely.

“Well, I don’t know,” Rhiannon said stubbornly. “It could just be—"

“If you’re not going to believe me, then I’m not going to waste any more time trying to convince you,” Ianto interrupted tiredly. “I’ve given you my evidence. You can choose to believe me or not. The point is, I’m here now.”

A silence descended on the room around them as Rhiannon struggled to come to terms with everything. Jack was playing with Ioan’s hair, while Ioan was glancing between Ianto and Rhiannon. Ianto just watched all three people and waited.

“Fine,” Rhiannon said eventually. “Someday, I’ll want the truth, but for now… I guess I’m just glad you’re here.”

Ianto counted his blessings.

“So,” she said, rounding on Jack now. “You’re him.”

“I suppose,” Jack said.

“His boyfriend.”

“Partner.”

“Yes, whatever,” Rhiannon said indifferently. She peered down at Ioan in his lap. “And I don’t need anybody to tell me who you are. You’re the spitting image of Ianto.”

Ioan looked up at Ianto with slight terror. Ianto smiled at him and took his hand. Ioan clung onto Ianto and Ianto rubbed a soothing thumb over his small knuckles.

“Who’s is he?” Rhiannon asked Ianto.

Ianto frowned. “Sorry?”

“Did you knock some girl up?” Rhiannon asked. “Is that why you’ve been gone? I wouldn’t have judged.”

“That’s not—do you really think I’d do that?” Ianto asked, furious.

Rhainnon shrugged. “I don’t know much about you, it’d seem. One moment you’re suddenly gay, then you’re dead, then you’re ‘alive again’ with a… a partner and a child. You know what that looks like?”

“We used a surrogate,” Ianto said angrily. “That’s all. Jack raised him on his own until… I came back.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” Rhiannon said. “You said it was complicated between you! Hang on, is that why you walked away? Couldn’t handle him and the child so you ran off?”

“No!” Ianto shouted. Ioan’s hand tightened in his and Ianto forced himself to relax. “Look. We’re going in circles. I’ve told you the truth and you don’t believe me. Let’s just move on, please.”

Rhiannon shook her head for a moment, but then glanced back to Ioan and smiled at him.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Seven,” Ioan murmured.

“That’s a wonderful age. I remember when your dad was that age.”

“Oh.”

“He didn’t have curly hair like you,” she said, inspecting his hair. “Did that come from the—”

“The egg donor,” Ianto said quickly, sharing a glance with Jack. “Most likely.”

“You’re a lot bigger than him, too,” she added. “He’s very… small.”

“He’s growing into it,” Ianto said, feeling a little defensive for both himself and Ioan.

“You shot up like a weed. Maybe that’ll happen to you, too,” she said to Ioan.

Ioan looked up at Ianto and Ianto gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“The eyes aren’t quite like yours, either,” Rhiannon told Ianto.

Jack hastily turned his face away.

“Donor’s, probably,” Ianto said, so that Jack didn’t have to spend the rest of the mini-reunion hiding his eyes.

“Ah,” Rhiannon said knowingly. “Well, you lucked out with your donor, then. Mostly. The… you know—” she gestured to her ears “—that’s a bit of a shame.”

Rage bubbled in Ianto’s chest. Rage on his own behalf, and Jack’s, as well as on the behalf of the imaginary donor. But rage mostly on behalf of Ioan, who thankfully wasn’t paying Rhiannon any attention anymore now that she’d finished speaking to him.

“Rhiannon!”

“What?” she asked. “I’m just saying. Maybe you should’ve seen what problems the donor could have passed along. Do they do that at donor clinics? If they don’t, they should.”

“This _isn’t_ a problem,” Ianto snapped.

“No need to get prickly,” Rhiannon said. “All I’m saying is—”

“Yes, I know what you’re saying,” Ianto said. “And I’d rather you didn’t.”

The conversation petered out rather quickly after that, and Ianto and Jack left as soon as possible.

“I didn’t think she was going to be like that,” Ianto said after the car had been silent for far too long. “I thought—I don’t know what I thought.”

“She’s mad,” Jack said. “And hurt. I’m not sure she meant most of it.”

“Do we have to see her again?” Ioan asked from the backseat.

Ianto glanced confusedly at him through the mirror. “Yes. She’s my sister.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you asking?”

“’Cause last time, Daddy said I wouldn’t see her again. And now we did.”

Ianto looked at Jack.

“I didn’t know he remembered that,” Jack said, astonished.

“I do,” Ioan said. “She said the same things as last time. She called Dad a weed. Dad’s not a weed. He’s a person. Do we really _have_ to see her again?”

Ianto sighed. “Yes. Though I’m not really sure I want to anymore.”

“She also said I spit on Dad’s pictures. I don’t spit. I’m nice!”

“I know you’re nice,” Ianto said. “And that’s not what she said. She said you’re the spitting image of me. That just means you look like me.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Nice words, Ioan,” Jack admonished.

They drove a bit further in silence, but Ianto’s rage was still getting the better of him.

“Now I get why you yelled at me when I asked if it was my fault about Ioan’s… well, everything.”

“We both know I wasn’t mad about that,” Jack said.

“Well, I still get it,” Ianto said. “How could she… No. I don’t even care. I’m punching the next person who acts like that.”

“You and me both.”

“Maybe we _won’t_ see her again.”

“Yes, we will,” Jack said. “She’s your sister.”

Unfortunately, Ianto had to agree.

* * *

“Put the cat down.”

“No,” Ioan said, cuddling the fluffy tuxedo cat closer to his body.

“It’s not good for you,” Ianto said.

“I don’t care,” Ioan said, burying his face in its fuzz.

Ianto winced. “Really, Ioan. You have to put it down.”

“No.”

“Ioan, I swear to god, if that cat’s not down in five seconds…”

“Fine!”

He crouched down and let the cat leap away from his arms. Then he stood back up, his arms folded and his face pouting as he glared up at Ianto. The glare didn’t stay for long, though, as the effects of days’ worth of dust, dank air, and cat dander finally made its move on Ioan’s lungs. Ianto sighed and pulled out the inhaler from his pocket.

“I told you this would happen,” Ianto said sternly as Ioan inhaled the puff of medicine. “You’ve been having a rough time since last night. If I tell you don’t pick up the cat, then don’t pick up the cat!”

“But I wanted to!” Ioan burst out, exhaling before he was supposed to. “He was being a good kitty!”

“Ioan! Now we have to start all over again.”

Needless to say, neither father nor son were particularly happy as they made their way back down to the Archives. But then they passed by snobby Mr. Abbott, who scared the life out of Ioan, and Ioan rammed his hand into Ianto’s and held it tight until they were out of sight of the man. Ianto had to admit, the vexation did ease away with the presence of the contact. By the time they reached Jack, they’d both silently agreed to forgive each other.

“Oh, you found him,” Jack said, glaring gently down at Ioan.

“He was by the cats.”

“They were being good and nobody was pettin’ them,” Ioan said defensively. “I didn’t want them to be lonely!”

“You’re not supposed to run off or do things without permission,” Jack said. “That’s the rules for helping us down here.”

“I know. But they said the kitties were going to be out and I wanted to see them!”

“That’s not a good excuse.”

Ioan looked ready to cry. Ianto hoped he didn’t. Jack would buckle under the pressure if Ioan did, and then nobody would learn their lesson from the damn experience.

“Ioan,” Ianto said, crouching to his level. “You know you’re not supposed to do what you did.”

“I know,” Ioan said tearfully.

“And you won’t do it again.”

The boy shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” Ianto said. “But that means no kitties for the rest of the day. Be good tomorrow and you might be able to see them again.”

“Okay,” Ioan said. He sniffed.

Ianto kissed his head. “Thank you for understanding.”

 _Then_ he let Jack fuss over him like a goddamn mother hen.

“What’s wrong with your wee lad?”

Ianto did _not_ jump. He _didn’t_.

“Nothing,” Ianto said, his heart thumping all wrong in his chest as he turned to face Archie.

“Hm. Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Archie said, raising an eyebrow at Jack and Ioan.

“It is. Don’t worry about it. What do you need?”

“Just handing some files over to you,” he said.

“Thanks,” Ianto said, taking the files. “I don’t have any for you at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll have a substantial stack of them for you later.”

“I bet,” Archie said darkly. “The ‘I’ section is by far the worst. Glad I’m not going to be around to see if ‘J’ is any worse.”

Ianto frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m quitting, boy,” Archie said. “I’m old. I’m tired. I’m sick of this place. I want to go and sit with my girl Nessie and fish for the rest of my days."

“Oh,” Ianto said uselessly.

“But don’t you worry,” Archie said. “I’m taking that Abbott out with me when I go, and I’ll make sure of it.”

“What?”

“I’m getting plenty of good dirt on the man for UNIT to review alongside my resignation,” Archie said, rather gleefully.

“You can’t leave and take Abbott with you! It can’t just be me and Jack down here!”

“It won’t be. You’ve got your wee lad to help you,” Archie said, nodding to the sniffling Ioan. “And besides. Me and Jack had this place running just fine when it were the two of us. You’ll be fine.”

“Still…”

“Oh, just say you’ll miss me and get over it.”

“We will,” Ianto said, surprisingly honest about it. “Miss you, that is.”

“I know. I’m a charm.” He clapped his hands together. “Right. I’ve got a whole room to myself to overhaul. See you when I see you.”

Then he left, whistling some tune to himself as he went.

“What was that about?” Jack murmured, shifting to stand behind Ianto.

“Archie’s quitting,” Ianto said, reaching out to take Ioan from Jack’s arms.

_“What?”_

“Don’t yell,” Ianto chided, shifting Ioan’s weight and starting back to their allotted room of the Archives. “You’ll give us all a headache.”

Jack wouldn’t leave the topic alone for the rest of the day. He was either muttering to himself about it, demanding answers from Ianto (who had very little to give), or pleading Archie to stay. All in all, Ianto thought Jack was taking it a little harsher than necessary. Then again, Jack always took poorly to being left behind.

“Dad!” Ioan tugged at his shirt. “Dad, Dad! Look!”

“I’m looking,” Ianto mumbled, flipping through another page on the Icarus Experiment file. There was a lot of pages damaged by fire. Maybe some of it would be salvageable, but he’d have to find the computerised file.

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes… I am.”

Ioan sighed. “This is why I wanted to play with the kitties.”

Ianto blinked and shut the file. “Why?”

“’Cause nobody wants to be with me down here,” Ioan said sadly. “All you wanna do is work.”

Ianto, sensing the gravity that this held for Ioan, crouched down in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Ioan, this _is_ work,” Ianto said. “I know it’s not fun, and I know we don’t have a lot of attention to give you, but it’s all over in five days, and then we’re back with you.”

“But I’m _lonely_ ,” Ioan said. “Just like the kitties.”

And if that didn’t just tug on Ianto’s heartstrings.

“Come here,” Ianto said.

Ioan shuffled closer and Ianto wrapped him in a hug.

“Do you want to stay at Aunt Gwen’s next year, so that you have Anwen to hang out with?”

“No, I wanna be here.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanna… I wanna work _with_ you. I can read. And you can teach me where to put the things. But I don’t wanna sit in the corner and only get to help a little. That’s boring. And lonely. And sad.”

Ianto nodded, understanding. “You want to be useful.”

“Yes. And I don’t like sitting in the corner by myself.”

Ianto thought about it for a moment. Hadn’t Archie just said Ioan could be useful? Wouldn’t it be best to start teaching him now, when they still had Archie and Mr. Abbott to cover the slack it caused to teach Ioan?

“Okay,” Ianto said. “How about this. You help me and your father _all_ the time in the Archives. No sitting in corners and only helping on the last day. You can work every day. Is this what you want?”

Ioan nodded fervently. “Yes!”

“Alright. I’ll talk with Daddy about this.”

Ioan smiled. “Thank you!”

“Christ, I’m promoting child labour,” Ianto muttered to himself as he stood.

Ioan squinted up at him.

“I was talking to myself,” Ianto told Ioan.

Well, he supposed if Ioan ever wanted to stop working, they wouldn’t say ‘no,’ so it wasn’t that bad. Right?

“Now, what was it you wanted to show me?” he asked.

“Mister Archie’s stack!” Ioan said, pointing to it.

Ianto looked over to it. “What about it?”

“The top one! It says ichthyosaurus!”

Ianto leaned across the table and picked it up. It did indeed read ‘Ichthyosaurus’ on the side.

“That’s the fat one with a pointy nose that swims,” Ioan said excitedly. “Like a dolphin-shark!”

Ianto flipped the cover of the file open. As the file was from the 20’s, there was only sketch of the beast, but it did resemble what Ioan described. “You’re right, buddy. It does kind of look like a dolphin-shark. Thing.”

“Oh, I had one of those once,” Jack said, returning to the room. “They have the nasty habit of biting your toes when you try to swim with them. Loyal, though. Always swam in the waters of the bay where it could be close to us. Why are we talking about dolphin-sharks?”

“We’re not,” Ioan told him. “We’re talking about ichthyosaurs!”

“Oh,” Jack said. “I have no idea what those are.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Ianto said, thinking back to the time where he had to tell Jack what a beluga was.

“It’s a dinosaur!” Ioan told him. “And they look like if a dolphin and a shark had a big baby!”

“I want to see,” Jack said, taking the file from Ianto’s hand. “Oh. Yeah. But nothing at all like a dolphin-shark. Those are a lot cuter.”

“Can I see one?”

“They don’t live around here, kiddo,” Jack said. “Anyway, why are _you_ getting into our files?”

“’Cause Dad said I could help now.”

Jack looked at Ianto. “Did he?”

“He did,” Ianto said, snatching the file back. “And so will you.”

“And why’s that?”

Ianto beckoned him closer.

“He wants to grow up a little,” Ianto mumbled. “And not sit in the corner by himself where he can be ignored.”

“Oh,” Jack said. “You’re right. I will say he can help.”

“See?” Ianto smiled down to Ioan. “Okay. Want to learn where to put the ichthyosaurus file?”

“Yes!”

* * *

They learned the hard way that, while it was okay to leave hearing aids at home for swimming lessons (or, swim _practice_ , as it was now that Ioan was in a club), it was _not_ okay to leave hearing aids at home during swim meets. Ioan missed his very first race ever because he didn’t know what was going on. It crushed him to bits, poor kid.

Now, though, Ianto and Jack had learned their lesson, and hearing aids were snatched out of Ioan’s ears the moment his swim cap was shoved on before a race.

Ioan was… a decent swimmer. Not great, but definitely not bad. Ianto supposed at this age, dedication was more important than speed, and Ioan definitely had dedication. That kid was determined to do his 50m freestyle, and boy did it show.

Anyway, Ianto wasn’t a very good judge of good versus bad when it came to swimming; he knew next to nothing about the sport. Jack seemed to know everything, and then some, but Ianto was learning this slowly as he went along. Hell, he hadn’t even known what 50m freestyle was until a few minutes before Ioan swam it for the first time.

But Ianto was getting better at it. He now understood what freestyle and backstroke were and could even tell apart butterfly and breaststroke. He didn’t have as single fucking clue about whatever “combo-strokes” Jack kept moaning on about, because as far as he could tell, they didn’t even _exist_.

“That’s the _point_ ,” Jack said as they waited for Ioan to step up for his next race. “He’d be so good at the backbreast! But we’ll never know, because they haven’t been invented yet.”

Ianto rolled his eyes.

“Is that him up on the block?” Jack asked, pointing.

“No, he doesn’t do block starts yet. They scare him.”

“He’d like them if he tried them,” Jack sang.

“Shh. Let him try things on his own. He’s the one just to the left.” Ianto pointed to the kid. Then frowned. “Wait. No, that’s not him.”

“He’s in lane three.” Jack checked the heat sheet, then looked up at the kids at the starts. “That’s him on the block!”

“Since when does he dive off blocks?” Ianto asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Go Ioan!”

“He can’t hear you.”

Certainly not through the swim cap and all this noise. Ianto also didn’t understand why parents cheered to kids _as_ they were swimming. Their kids couldn’t hear them below the water. And they’d have just as much luck as Ioan, picking their voices out from the rest of the crowd. It was kind of useless.

“Who cares?” Jack asked. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Ianto shushed him. “They’re about to start.”

He always worried that Ioan might not be able to hear the official tell them to “take their mark” or the starter going off, but Ioan always seemed to make it by just fine, thank god. Still, Ianto held his breath throughout the whole start, and only let go as Ioan’s little body pierced the water. And this time, he let the breath go with extra relief, because Ioan successfully made it off the block with his dive. It was a little wibbly, as Jack liked to call it, but it worked well enough and Ioan didn’t drown.

“GO IOAN!” Jack shouted.

Ianto resisted the urge to put his ear to his shoulder. Ouch. If Jack kept that up, there’d be _two_ Joneses in hearing aids.

Ioan placed fourth in his heat of breaststroke, which was smack dab in the middle. Not good, not bad. Decent. Ianto could get behind that, if he was honest. He spent his whole life being decent. Decent was pretty good, all things considered.

“Did you see me?” Ioan squealed as he joined them on the bleachers.

“We saw!” Jack said as Ianto grabbed a towel and began drying off Ioan’s hair so that they could put the hearing aids back in without fear of water damage.

“I went off the blocks!”

“That was awesome!”

“And I got fourth!”

“Very good!”

“I swam fast, like a plesiosaur!”

“That’s what Nessie is,” Ianto told Jack quietly.

“Ah,” Jack replied.

“Or a flying fish!” Ioan went on.

Flying fish were all the rage with Ioan now. Swimming and flying all in one. Ioan thought they were the coolest things. Almost as cool as aeroplanes. Not as cool as dinosaurs, though. Ioan seemed to teeter back and forth between wanting to be a palaeontologist or wanting to be a pilot. This month, it was palaeontologist.

“You were very fast, and I’m very proud of you,” Jack said, kissing his forehead as Ianto searched the bag for Ioan’s hearing aids.

“Dad! Did you see me?”

“Yes,” Ianto said, dropping the bag to smile at Ioan. “When did you learn to do a dive from the blocks?”

“Last week! And I’ve been practicing, ‘cause I’m big now and I need to go off the block!”

“You are getting pretty big,” Ianto said, picking up the bag again.

This was a hot topic of discussion between Jack and Ianto recently. Ioan was finally reaching the height of his peers. He was still scrawnier than a chicken leg, but he was getting taller. And not only that, he was pushing to be… _older_. Ever since Scotland, Ioan had been trying to be as self-sufficient as possible. The fact that Ianto was allowed to help him with his hearing aids right now was a little surprising, because Ioan didn't let them help him with those anymore.

Ianto knew it was a part of growing up, but there was a part of him that just… _wasn’t ready_. He’d just gotten to know his kid! He wasn’t ready to have Ioan grow up on him!

Jack was even less inclined to let Ioan be a big kid. He was still yearning for his little baby Ioan, asleep in his arms with not a care in the world. He wanted his toddler who played hard-to-get before bathtime, his child that demanded blueberries and swimming, his duck-loving kiddo. Jack wasn’t ready for Ioan to get bigger because he missed Ioan being smaller.

It made Ianto feel bad, sometimes. Jack got to see those things. Ianto didn’t. Ianto never got to hold his baby. Ianto never got to give baths or dish out blueberries or anything else. He was lucky to have seen what little of Ioan’s formative years as he did, lucky to even see Ioan at all, but still… he wished he had that chance to be baby and toddler Ioan’s dad.

Right now, though, Ianto could be the dad of the one-day-from-being-eight-year-old Ioan that found his hearing aids in this seemingly-bottomless swim bag. And then he could give his son a hug and a kiss, because god only knew how long Ioan was going to tolerate those, too.

“Can we get ice cream now?” Ioan asked.

 _“Ice cream_?” Ianto asked.

Jack said, “Eat? Before you swim? No way. That’s when the minnowsharks getcha.”

“There are no minnowsharks!”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked.

“No sharks in the pool! And I’m done swimming anyway!”

“You are?” Ianto asked, reaching for the heat sheet and checking through. “I thought you were in another relay…”

“No, that’s Ifan Jones, I told you,” Jack said.

“Oh. I guess you are done, then,” Ianto said.

“So can we get ice cream?” Ioan asked eagerly. “Pleeeeaaaseee?”

And, of course, the answer was yes because Jack was a complete suck-up and Ianto, to be honest, wasn’t much better.

Ioan slept very soundly that night, tired from his races and then later boasting about it to Anwen, and Gwen, and Rhys, and Evan, and Jack and Ianto, and Francine over the phone, and then Jack and Ianto again. Made Ianto tired just listening to him.

The next morning, Ioan was oddly quiet for his birthday. He ate his breakfast crepes in an almost contemplative silence, watching Jack and Ianto eat. Jack and Ianto shared curious glances through the meal, but ultimately didn’t ask what the mood was about. Ioan would tell them in his own time, if he wanted.

But the mood didn’t go away. It dissipated slightly when Francine, Tish, and the Cooper-Williamses came and when gifts were given, but it returned not long after.

Jack actually pulled Ianto into the loo to talk about it.

“I’m just a little worried, that’s all,” Jack said.

“We have no reason to believe anything’s wrong,” Ianto said, though he had to admit, he was worrying himself. “He seems just fine.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Okay, so, he’s discovered a new emotion. Good for him.”

“But what if it’s a bad one?”

“He’ll be fine.” Ianto eyed Jack. “You know, Martha had told me she thought you were in the clear by now after two years, but evidently not.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Jack grumbled.

“Mhm. I’m sure. Now, let’s get out of here, before they think we’re shagging like rabbits.”

Jack perked up at that. “We could be.”

“No. I’m not an exhibitionist.”

“Liar.”

“I am not!”

Thankfully, nobody accused them of anything when they returned to the group. Gwen gave them a look, but Ianto was pretty sure that it was because she might’ve been the only person who noticed that they’d left in the first place, and not because she suspected anything.

Gradually, the guests began to leave, and it was just the three of them and Francine left.

This was when Ioan chose to voice what was on his mind.

“Daddy? Dad?” Ioan asked.

“Hm?” Ianto looked up from the toy aeroplane he was trying to free from its box.

“Can I sleep in my own room tonight?”

The room went dead silent. Ianto blinked. Jack looked like someone had stabbed him with a long, rusty knife. Francine wasn’t paying much attention. Ioan watched Jack and Ianto carefully.

“I—” Jack said, his voice sounding off.

“Of course,” Ianto cut over, because this could _not_ be the one thing Jack denied the boy.

“And all the nights after?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Okay. I’m gonna do that, then.”

“Go right ahead,” Ianto said as he handed Ioan the aeroplane.

Ioan gladly took the toy, showing it to Francine, who managed to fake intrigue better than anyone Ianto had ever met.

Ianto was impressed by Jack, though. He managed to wait a whole minute and a half before getting up and bolting out of the room. Ioan didn’t seem to notice, but Francine sent Ianto a questioning glance.

“Watch him, please,” Ianto said to her.

“Of course.”

He got up to follow Jack as Francine, the wonderful woman, distracted Ioan further. She was good to the boy. Ianto was glad Ioan had her.

Jack was in Ioan’s bedroom (now evidently deserving of its name), standing in the centre and clutching onto Ioan’s Daisy as if she was his lifeline.

“Did you notice he hasn’t been sleeping with her for the past few weeks?” he asked. He sounded a mess.

“I didn’t,” Ianto admitted. “Or if I did, I didn’t question it.”

“Me, neither,” Jack said.

Then he burst into tears.

“Woah, hey,” Ianto said, because this wasn’t very typical of Jack. He closed his arms around Jack in a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s growing up,” Jack sobbed into Ianto’s shoulder. “I don’t _want_ him to grow up. I want him to be little. I want him to be my baby again.”

“He never got to be my baby,” Ianto said quietly.

Jack jerked his head up, looking sorry. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear—”

“I know,” Ianto murmured. “But… I didn’t get to see him little. Do you know what keeps me from being sad about that all the time?”

“What?” Jack asked, previous tears returning.

“The fact that he _is_ still little,” Ianto said. “He’s only eight. Sure, he wants to do bigger-people things and wants more autonomy, but what kid didn't want that at his age? And I’m sure he’s learning that kids his age sleep on their own. And don’t call their fathers ‘daddy’ anymore.”

Jack looked horrified by that. “I don’t—”

“I know, I know,” Ianto soothed him. “I know. But remember: he is still little. He’s still a kid. Our kid. And he’ll be little for a while longer, and he’ll always be our kid. Maybe that’s just scraps to you, but it means a lot to me. I might not have his past, but I’ll always have his future.”

Jack nodded, sniffing. “No, you’re right. You’re right. It’s just… it all goes so fast, you know? I feel like I hardly have time to savour the good moments before they’re gone. I’m afraid it’ll go so quickly that I’ll just… miss it.”

“You won’t,” Ianto said. “I won’t let you miss it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Ianto said. “And Ioan loves you. He always will.”

Ianto kissed him then, because Jack was never made better without a kiss. Unfortunately, Ioan had the tendency to walk in on those kisses, and this occasion was no different than the others.

“Ew, don’t kiss in my bedroom!” Ioan laughed.

“Sorry,” Ianto said, breaking away from Jack. “It’s Daddy’s fault. He’s naughty.”

“Like when he ate my ice cream yesterday.”

“Yes. Like that. Naughty,” Ianto admonished, and Jack managed to crack a smile.

“Nanna says she has to go now,” Ioan said. “She wants to get home before its dark. Or something.”

“Okay.” Ianto looked at Jack, who was sniffing and rubbing his eyes to make himself look presentable. “We’ll be out in a second.”

Goodbyes were said, along with something Francine quietly muttered to Jack, which made him nod and her smile sadly, and then she was off. Ioan waved her goodbye for longer than necessary, then returned to his toys. Jack and Ianto sat on the sofa and watched him, holding hands because at the moment, they felt that was the only thing left to hold onto.

Bedtime came around sooner than Ianto was ready for. But, then again, Ianto could have spent the rest of forever preparing for that, and he still would never have been ready. Ianto and Jack waited outside the bathroom as Ioan readied himself for bed, because Ioan could brush his teeth and take out his hearing aids on his own, duh! (His own words, said unaware to Jack and Ianto’s internal plight.)

“Okay,” Ioan said as he opened the door. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Don’t you want a story?” Jack asked.

Ianto hoped so, for Jack’s sake. If Jack was going to lose this much, he’d best be able to still Ioan a damn bedtime story.

“Fine. But only the Myfanwy Story.”

Ianto sighed in relief.

After the Myfanwy Story was told and Ioan was tucked under his covers, it was time to say goodnight and leave. Jack kissed Ioan’s head and held him tight, and Ianto was worried he’d have to pry Jack off of Ioan so that he could get his own turn. Fortunately, Jack was considerate and let go of him long enough for Ianto to give his own slightly-tearful goodnight.

The problem with having slept with Ioan for the past year and a half was that Ianto was now used to going to bed at the same time Ioan did. Jack and Ianto silently dressed for bed, because they were used to that, too. Something akin to grief hung over their heads as they slipped under the covers.

For a while, all they could do was stare at each other. Any other time, they probably would’ve used Ioan’s absence as an excuse to fuck, but now… now they just wished that small body was in its usual spot between them, pinching their skin with his crab-like fingers and holding on tight to them. Never letting go.

Ianto felt the only thing to abate the tension was to reach out and take Jack’s hand again, holding on for someone who wasn’t going to hold onto them like that again. Jack laced his fingers into Ianto’s, and they stayed like that for some time.

He drifted off at some point. He wasn’t certain when, but he knew it happened, because all of the sudden, he was being startled awake by something small crawling over him.

Ioan nestled himself in his usual spot between Jack and Ianto, breaking the two apart so that he could grab their hands as he was wont to do.

 _“Tomorrow_ I can sleep on my own,” he whispered to them.

Ianto caught the glint in Jack’s eye even through the darkness of the room, and the two of them instinctively snuggled closer to Ioan.

Tomorrow, they could watch their little boy grow up. But not tonight. Tonight was meant for family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Ioan actually was created for a barely-drafted short sequel to On Happiness, where Ianto and Jack jump back from the future with their newest kid to visit someone's grave (I never decided whose grave, though). He was originally called Owain and maybe had three lines in total, but I decided I liked the idea of the boy more than I liked the story, and gave it up to write the Right Behind You series based on the ideas I'd created for the kid. Also because I'd re-listened to a bunch of my childhood songs, but that's not entirely relevant right now.  
> (I did even less than my usual lack of editing for this chapter, but I swear, I will go back and fix it someday.)  
> Thank you for reading! Have a great day!


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